


Losing....

by VyxenSkye



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, past mechpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VyxenSkye/pseuds/VyxenSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that when a bondmate dies, the other will follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Losing Music

**Author's Note:**

> This is me just setting some things lose. I (for reasons I can't seem to explain) love to torture my favorite characters, and this is just me getting it all out in the most screwed up ways. I've enjoyed reading on this site for some time, but haven't posted anything, so enjoy my first foray into the writing world on AO3. 
> 
> Don't ignore the warnings, people, there is pretty much nothing in this story except for death. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, though I did my best to catch anything.
> 
> ::Comm speak::
> 
> \--bond speak--

**Chapter 1**

**Losing Music**

He was so tired all the time now. We could see it, even though neither of us wanted to.

            I leaned against my brother where we sat in the rec room, and he tolerated the contact for a few moments before giving me a slight nudge to get me off. The brief touch had made me feel better, sitting here watching our surrogate creator.

            There was a nudge at my spark, and I looked sideways to meet Sunny's optics. My golden brother stared silently at me for a long moment, and then turned his gaze to the black and white figure in the corner.

            -- _I'm worried too, Sides.--_

Prowl had always been a loner, had always sat by himself working silently whenever he came to the rec room for Energon, which didn't even happen all that often. He usually drank his meals in his office, working straight through his breaks, if you could call them that. It was a sort of Prowlian thing that no one questioned. The sky was blue, Sunny was a vain afthead, Ratchet was crazy, and Prowl was a quiet workaholic.

            That was why we had Jazz.

            Jazz was one of the only mechs that could get Prowl out of his office and into the social circles, get him smiling, laughing, and interacting with others. Sure, the black and white mech interacted with Sunny and I on a regular basis, and Bluestreak, but me and Sunny were his surrogate creations, and Bluestreak actually was his sparkling, so it was no surprise.

            But then Jazz had died.

            It was a day that I would never be able to get out of my processors, no matter how much I tried. The battle had been unexpected, as Megatron had suddenly had a desire to attack a power plant, which in all reality we should have expected. Sunny and I had been doing what we did best, taking down the Seekers with our Jet Judo while Bluestreak and a few others covered us.

            ::Anybody got optics or otherwise on Prowl?:: Blaster's voice came over the comms. ::He ran off and I lost him.::

            I tuned out the responses, though I kept an optic out for the distinctive black and white mech. There was no sign of him, though I had no doubt that Prowl could handle himself. It wasn't until a shot from Bluestreak had missed that I knew something was wrong.

            Bluestreak didn't miss.

            Instantly Sunny and I had made our way back to the ground, me by jumping off and using my jet pack, Sunny through more... creative means, ending with a Seeker smoking on the ground. Bluestreak was gasping when we found him, surrounded by Hound, Mirage and Cliffjumper, who were trying to get him to tell them what had happened.

            As soon as he saw us, though, the tears flowed down his face. "Carrier." he whispered, and the shock that traveled through our sparks caused us both to stop in our tracks.

            Sunstreaker was up and running before I was, racing in the direction that Bluestreak had pointed. I stayed behind, helping Bluestreak to his pedes and then moving after my twin as fast as I could get the shocked sniper to run.

            I had only a moment of the surprised horror from Sunny before we burst into the clearing to stand beside him, and I heard Bluestreak let out a groaning keen before he fell to his knees beside me.

            Prowl looked up at us with dead optics, his face expressionless. Sunny was standing beside him, a hand extended towards him, though he hadn't touched the black and white mech. I could only stare in shock at the scene in front of me, at the splatters of Energon that dotted Prowl's face, at his white arms soaked through in the life liquid.

            And Jazz...

            Jazz was lying in Prowl's lap, optics open and dark, staring into the sky. His right hand was lying on the ground, palm up, stained with Energon, though everything was covered in the blue liquid. His other hand was pressed against his throat, and I could see that this was the source of the pool of Energon Prowl was kneeling in, and doubtlessly the cause of Jazz's deactivation.

            "Prowl." Sunstreaker murmured, suddenly breaking the shocked silence.

            Vague optics traveled to my golden twin. "He's c-cold." Prowl said, his voice stuttering and static-laced. "W-We should contact-contact Ratchet. S-Something may b-b-be wrong with-with his c-coolant circulation-lation."

            Bluestreak made the groaning sound again.

            _\--He's glitching, Sunny.--_ I murmured across our bond. _\--We need to stop him before it gets worse. He could hurt himself, hurt us.--_

_\--I know. I just need to get close enough.--_

"Sides is calling him right now, Prowl." Sunny said soothingly, crouching slightly and moving closer, trying to get to where he can reach Prowl's neck, and thus knock him out with a well placed strike to the lines of his throat. It would hurt him, but it would be the most efficient way of stopping him before his confused systems started reacting violently. In this state, if any of us were perceived as a threat, Prowl would no doubt react without thought to protect his, in his mind, injured mate.

            His mind had blocked out the fact that Jazz was dead, in order to protect itself.

            "He's on his way." I added quietly, telling the truth. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear Ratchet yelling over the comms, as well as the footsteps behind us that signaled he was on his way, no doubt with Prime. Prowl's optics traveled to me, and Sunstreaker took that moment to strike. He was quick and precise, and an instant later Prowl let out a slight sigh and slumped to the side, caught by Sunny before he could fall into the puddle of Jazz's Energon.

            Sunny looked up to me, his optics nearly white with stress as he pulled Prowl's body away from Jazz's lifeless form, which was beginning to lose color. I stepped in, easing Jazz back onto the ground before helping my twin lay Prowl out on the dirt.

            A moment later Ratchet burst into the area, his optics burning white, venting furiously as he ran forward. He slid to a stop, and then dropped his med kit. "Oh Jazz..."

            Prime looked between Sunny and I where we were cradling Prowl, to Bluestreak shaking on the ground, and Jazz's body, and then grimly spoke. "We need to get back to the Ark. I've called for Skyfire. Ratchet.... do what you can for Prowl."

            The red and white medic nodded shakily, moving to kneel beside Sunny and slowly began to work. Sunny slipped away from him, going to his knees beside Bluestreak and taking the shaking mech into his arms as soon as Bluestreak allowed it. I pressed myself against Bluestreak's side, trying to comfort him as much as I could, petting his trembling doorwings.

            Optimus carefully leaned down, lifting Jazz's limp body into his arms, his optics endlessly sad. We had lost more than a superior officer and talented saboteur, we had lost a friend, a creator, and a mate. Jazz meant so much to all of us, and with him gone...

            I wasn't sure exactly how we were going to keep going without him. I didn't know if Prowl was going to survive. And I knew that it would take everything that Sunny and I could give to keep Bluestreak from withdrawing into himself and blocking us out. He was too gentle, too kind, to take this tragedy.

            We would _not_ lose him to this.

 

************

 

            I knew as soon as Ratchet entered the debriefing room that things were worse than I had ever though they were going to be.

            He looked run down, and older than I had ever seen him look. His optics were dim, his stance defeated and exhausted. I watched quietly as he sat in his customary place beside Prowl's empty chair, resting his forearms on the table and leaning his chin against his fists.

            Optimus waited for a moment, and then quietly spoke. "Ratchet?"

            The red and white bot vented a sigh, and then passed a hand over his face in a gesture that we'd picked up from the humans. "Prowl's stable, but I'm honestly not certain how long it's going to hold. He woke once, and it's obvious that his processor has blocked out the fact that Jazz is..." he paused awkwardly, and then continued. "Bluestreak is physically fine, but he's catatonic; I couldn't get him to respond to me no matter what I did. I finally put him under, I'm hoping that some rest will help him."

            A moment of silence passed, in which Sunny and I shifted uncomfortably. Both of us wanted to go to Bluestreak; he needed us, he needed our support. However, just as both of us were getting ready to rise to our feet, Ratchet began to speak again.

            "I see no reason to perform a full autopsy on Jazz. In my prelim examination I found a puncture wound in the left side of his throat, passing all the way through his neck column. The back of his main energon line was torn open, which made it practically impossible for anything to have been done on scene. There are signs that his self-repair attempted to fix the tear, but there was too much damage. The data I've gathered from his systems tell me that he bled out in roughly half a breem, which is longer than I would have expected him to last, but Prowl must have managed to slow the bleed when he found him." Ratchet stopped here, his optics haunted.

            "A stray shot." Mirage murmured. "After all this time, a simple awry shot killed him."

            There was a collective shiver in the room. This was, more than anything, a reminder to all of us just how easy we were sent on to the Matrix.

            Another long silence as all of us absorbed everything, and then Bumblebee softly spoke. "I don't know what it's going to be like without him."

            "I don't think any of us can imagine that, Bumblebee." Hound said, laying his hand on the minibot's shoulder. "None of us wanted to."

            Jazz was the life of the Ark. He was the one who started all the parties, who got us all together, who helped to raise our spirits when something went wrong. He was the beat that held us together, and the spark that kept us going.

            Where would we be without him?

 

**********

 

            Bluestreak awoke the next day, staring blankly at us before diving into Sunny’s arms, snuggling close to him and hiding his face against my twin’s throat. Sunstreaker held him silently, his expression hard and his spark tense through our link. I pressed myself close to Blue’s back, stroking a hand down his drooping door wings in an attempt to comfort him.

            Ratchet was standing near Prowl’s berth, watching his stats as he began to bring him out of stasis. We were all worried what was going to happen when he woke, if he was going to know what had happened, or if we would have to tell him. And if we did, what would his reaction be? Would we have brought him here and saved him only to watch him die moments after realizing that his bondmate, the other half of his spark, was gone?

            The tension in the room was thick and suffocating as Prowl's systems came alive and his optics opened. He blinked, and then turned his gaze to Ratchet before pushing himself into a sitting position and then a standing one. Ratchet made no move to stop him, not wanting to push him too far.

            "Am I free to go?"

            I couldn't help it; my jaw dropped open. Sunstreaker tensed beside me, and Bluestreak trembled between us, tucking his face even closer against Sunny's neck. Ratchet blinked in shock, opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but his vocalizer failed him. There was a click as he reset it.

            "Prowl?"

            The black and white held his gaze, and then repeated himself. "Am I free to leave? I would like to return to my quarters."

            Ratchet gaped at him. "You... Prowl..."

            With a sigh Prowl spoke again. "I have my memory, Ratchet. I know that Jazz is gone. I would like to return to my quarters to rest so I will be able to return to duty tomorrow. Optimus will no doubt require my assistance."

            Seemingly unable to do anything else, Ratchet nodded dumbly. Prowl was gone moments later, leaving Sunny, Ratchet and I to stare blankly at each other. I finally managed to get my vocalizer to work.

            ".... What just happened?"

 

*********

 

            _Prowl was yanked out of his state of intense focus on the battle by the bolt of pain from the closed bond that he held with Jazz. Instantly his attention was on his mate, making sure that he was alright._

_What he found made his spark skip a beat._

_::Prowl... shot... love you...::_

_::NO!::_

_He was running a moment later, his doorwings flat against his back as he darted through the battle around him. His spark led him unerringly to where Jazz had been hiding, preparing to launch a surprise attack from a gully not far from Prowl's position. He shot a comm towards Ratchet who responded that he was on his way, but that he was across the battlefield._

_It was this moment that somewhere in Prowl's logic centers, he knew that Jazz was dead._

_Prowl skidded across the ground and fell to his knees beside Jazz, who was curled on the ground with both hands pressed to his throat. Words falling from his vocalizer, Prowl struggled to get his hands beneath Jazz's, to locate the source of the bleed and try to pinch it off. Jazz was choking on his own Energon, his optics wide as his visor snapped up, making optic contact with his mate._

_"Let me, let me, let go Jazz, you have to let go, have to let me get to it!" Prowl pleaded, his fingers digging beneath his mate's hands and pressing over the wound. He could barely feel anything in the slickness of Energon, and he flinched backwards as Jazz jerked, Energon spraying across his face as his hands slipped before he managed to get another hold on the torn line._

_::I'm sorry... sorry...::_

_Prowl shot out another comm for Ratchet, at the same time trying to sooth Jazz's frantic mind even as his physical struggles grew weaker and weaker."Stay with me Jazz, Ratchet is on his way."_

_::I love you... I love you...love...::_

_Jazz's body went still and then, with a great release of air, his frame went limp in Prowl's lap. His right hand slipped from where it was clasped at his throat and his optics went dark._

_Half of his spark ripped away, and then Prowl knew no more._

_*********_

Prowl awoke with a start, his optics wide and his spark pounding, the yawning emptiness within him more painful than usual. He fought back the pain, one hand pressing to his chestplate as he closed his eyes in the dim light of his berthroom, trying to normalize the beat of his spark.

            This was a regular occurrence. Almost every night he saw Jazz; either relived the terror and pain of his death, or saw flashes of his face. Sometimes Jazz would seem to see him, react to him, and others it was simply as if he was watching his bonded on the other side of a screen.

            The void within his spark ached, and he forced himself to get up and make his way to the Energon dispenser on the wall, drawing a cube and refueling. It was best for him to put his focus into other things, anything, to get his processor off of Jazz. He couldn't afford to spend any time thinking about his beloved.

            If he did, the void might swallow him, and he couldn't leave. Not while he was still needed. He knew that Jazz would wait for him. All he had to do was last until the end of the war....

 

**********

 

            _"Heya Prowler."_

_Prowl's helm snapped up, and his optics widened faintly in shock as he stared into Jazz's beloved face. "... Jazz?"_

_A smile passed over the silver lips. "I'm here."_

_The Praxian stumbled to his pedes, very nearly collapsing against his smaller mate, doorwings trembling. "I miss you." His voice was thick with emotion, and Jazz crooned softly, wrapping his arms around Prowl's waist and pressing his cheek against his mate's._

_"I know, babe. I miss you too. I'm so proud of you, holding on like this."_

_"I must." Prowl responded, his hands stroking along Jazz's frame, needing to feel him, touch him, even if this was nothing more than a recharge dream, his processor struggling to cope with the loss of his mate. "I cannot leave Optimus without a tactician. He needs my assistance to end this war."_

_Jazz smiled, leaning back to press his hand against Prowl's face. The taller mech leaned into the touch, shuttering his optics as he focused on memorizing every little detail. "And the war will end. You're doing so well."_

_"I'm so tired, Jazz." Prowl murmured quietly after a moment._

_Jazz's face crumpled slightly, sorrow and pain fleeting across his features, but they faded quickly as Prowl opened his optics. "It'll be okay. Everything will be over soon, and then you can rest. Just hold on for a little longer, okay?" He smiled, the gesture sad. "For me?"_

_Prowl returned the smile, even if it was small and lonely. "Anything for you."_

*********

 

            In the end, it was violent.

            Prowl suddenly found himself on his back, his doorwings screaming at him, and his senses mildly interested in the fact that his entire torso seemed to have gone numb. He could faintly hear screaming that sounded like Bluestreak, but his audios seemed to be malfunctioning; everything was so dull.

            He blinked up at the sky, his fingers twitching for the grip of the rifle that was no longer in his grasp, and he tried to take in a vent of air.

            Pain exploded through his frame and his venting hitched, a faint moan escaping his vocalizer. His body throbbed with each beat of his spark, and he struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

            He remembered the call of 'get down!', remembered preparing to leap for cover.... The Seekers. There had been an air strike, unanticipated because they had believed the Elite Trine to be on the ground. They must have gotten in the air again without Prowl's knowledge.

            _'I cannot go...'_ Prowl thought desperately. _'Prime needs me...'_

Ratchet was suddenly there, his optics wide even as his hands immediately went to work at the gaping hole in Prowl's midsection. Prowl tried to focus on what he was saying, but the words were muffled.

            Bluestreak appeared in his vision, shimmering tears trailing down his cheeks and his hands snatching up one of Prowl's. The black and white Praxian turned his attention to his creation, blinking slowly and squeezing his hands. He absently watched Bluestreak's mouth move, tried to analyze the words being formed by his lips.

            "Stay with me!" Bluestreak was screaming. "Please don't leave me! I can't lose you too!"

            Ratchet swore as he wrenched away a melted panel and was promptly sprayed by Energon and coolant. "Damnit! His lines are shredded! He's losing Energon too fast!"

            Prowl was only focused on his child. "It'll be okay..." he murmured, not noticing that his voice was slurring and static-laced, barely understandable. "It'll be... okay..."

            The world faded.

 

*********

 

            When Prowl awoke again, it was to the dull muddied sense of sedation and the quiet, slow beeping of a spark monitor. He could feel the weight of a static blanket over his lower half and chest, as well as a pair of hands wrapped around his left hand. He blinked slowly, and then turned his helm to see Bluestreak sitting beside him, asleep with his helm on the berth.

            The low lighting told Prowl that it was the night cycle of the ship; Ratchet was no doubt recharging, but lightly so he would hear if someone called for him.

            _'Heya Prowler.'_

This familiar greeting, so much more intimate and yet terrible made Prowl look past the recharging form of his creation to meet the optics of his lover, standing quietly behind Bluestreak. Prowl blinked in surprise; he had never seen Jazz while he was online.

            "... Jazz?" he whispered softly.

            Jazz smiled. _'You've done well, lover. It's time for you to rest now.'_

"Rest?" Prowl replied. "But the war...."

            _'You did it.'_ Jazz said with a wider smile. _'It's over.'_

Prowl felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chassis. "Over...?"

            This last word must have been louder, because Bluestreak suddenly sat up, his optics wide and vents cycling hard. He blinked and then focused. "Sire! You're awake! Are you okay?"

            Prowl smiled at his child. "What happened, Bluestreak?"

            "The Seekers came back for a pass, but Sunny and Sides managed to get them down again, but after they shot you. Ratchet managed to get your lines sealed off, and there was an emergency surgery when you got back. You're okay now, right?" Bluestreak rambled off.

            "The battle?" Prowl prompted, needing to hear it.

            A brilliant smile spread across Bluestreak's face. "We won! Like... the war! Megatron went down after Sides managed to deactivate Starscream. Of course, that also brought down the rest of the Elite Trine, they dropped pretty quick after Screamer. Optimus got in a good shot on Megatron, and he was taken into custody. The rest of the Decepticons were easy enough to contain, especially after, get this, Soundwave stepped in and said that he wanted to negotiate a ceasefire! We really did it, Sire, finally!"

            "Finally..." Prowl murmured, sinking back against the medical berth. His optics flickered, and suddenly Bluestreak seemed to realize what was happening, his face falling and desperation filling his gaze.

            "No! No, you can't leave! You have to stay with me, I need you!"

            Prowl smiled, the hand clasped between Bluestreak's squeezing gently. "You haven't needed me for a long time, little one. You have others to care for you."

            "Please..." Bluestreak pleaded. "Please don't go..."

            Jazz stepped closer just after these words, extending a ghostly hand to skim across his creation's wing. His features were sad. _'It's time to go, Prowler.'_

"Blue..." Prowl murmured quietly. "Your carrier's calling me. It's time for me to rest."

            Bluestreak seemed torn. "But... I don't want you to go. I'm not ready to be on my own."

            "You are." Prowl replied. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will look after you; they always have. Tell them that I've put my trust in them."

            The young Praxian's lower lip trembled, and then his face crumbled and he pressed himself into his Sire's hold, shivering against him. "I love you, Sire..." he whispered against Prowl's throat.

            "I love you too, little one." Prowl replied, already feeling his strength leaving him. The spark monitor began to flash beside him.

            _'Tell him that I love him.'_ Jazz asked quietly, even as he stepped forward, reaching out towards Prowl. _'That I'm so proud of him.'_

"Your carrier wants you to know that he's proud of you, and that he loves you." Prowl repeated obediently, and smiled sadly, serenely, as Bluestreak shivered and choked. "You will do fine, Bluestreak."

            Jazz took his hands, and then the pain finally fell away. 


	2. Losing Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more made up medical things in this chapter. I attempt to make them seem logical, so I hope that everyone understands my reasoning, if nothing else. 
> 
> Also, a note I think I should have made earlier; each of these chapters exist separately. I write each side of a pairing when I do it, but the chapters don't necessarily tie together in any way. Figured I should mention this somehow. 
> 
> This chapter includes some things that might be a little triggery (more than the other stuff....) as there is a young sparkling involved and dealing with loss. 
> 
> I don't own any of the characters, I'm just using them for my own twisted purposes.

The day that Prowl went down in battle, Jazz felt as though his spark had been ripped out of his chest. He could only stare as his bondmate went down in an oddly quiet heap, the world blanking out to nothing more than the sound of the shot that passed straight through Prowl's helm, the sight of him hitting the ground.

            There wasn't even enough time for them to say goodbye.

            Jazz was barely conscious of the strangled shout that tore from his vocalizer, the way that he started running to where Prowl's form was graying against the stone. He didn't hear the shouts of the Twins as they struggled to protect him as he lost all awareness of the battle around him and didn't bother to guard against the Decepticons; he didn't hear the shouts over the comms.

            There was only Prowl's mildly surprised faceplates, the trickle of Energon leaking from the hole that had destroyed his processor, the cooling feel of his plating.

            Jazz rocked back and forth, holding Prowl against his chest, tears streaming down his faceplates to land on Prowl's cheeks, his hands running across those beloved features. His spark flailed frantically, the void gaping and beckoning him to follow his mate.

            Absently he wondered who was screaming.

            Darkness.

 

**********

 

            Jazz struggled to wake. He knew that he had to open his optics, he had to get up. But the empty spot in his spark was hurting so badly, he couldn't help the faint keen that escaped his vocalizer before he realized that there was a small body curled up beside his own.

            Finally finding the strength to open his optics, Jazz looked down to see his only creation, Bluestreak, pressed against his side. The youngling was soundly asleep, his little hand fisted against Jazz's abdomen.

            "Blue..." Jazz whispered, shifting to gather the small body to his chest, his voice thick with static as tears made their way down his cheeks once more. This was all he had left of his bondmate; this tiny bundle of wires and plating.

            No matter how much he wanted to follow Prowl, to be with his mate once more, he needed to stay. For their sparkling. Bluestreak still needed him; no matter how much every day would hurt, Bluestreak would become his reason.

            The youngling shifted faintly against his plating, and then big blue optics opened and onlined. Bluestreak made a happy chirping sound and rubbed his face against his carrier's chest. "You're awake, Cari! Ratchet said that you were okay, but I was worried cause you were asleep when they brought you. Where's 'Tor? I haven't seen him, can we go find him? Why isn't he here with you, he always is!"

            Jazz felt his spark constrict, and carefully he held Bluestreak a little tighter. "Bluestreak, do you remember when your Sire and I told you that what we did is very dangerous?"

            Bluestreak's smile began to fade slightly. "Yes. You said that there was lots of mad people that were fighting with each other. That you and 'Tor were trying to stop the fighting, and that it would be scary." His features began to crumple. "Cari..."

            "Blue, baby..." Jazz struggled, resetting his vocalizer in an attempt to clear it, his hand stroking gently down Bluestreak's cheek. "Your Sire's not coming home." That sentence was the single hardest thing he had ever had to say.

            "No..." Bluestreak whispered. "No! He said he would always come back! He promised! He has to come home! I want him to read me stories, I love his stories, he gives me baths, he tucks me in at night!" Tears welled beneath his big blue optics. "He's going to teach me about my doorwings when I get older, he has to give me my kiss before berthtime!" Tiny fists began to beat on Jazz's chest. "He said he'd come back! He promised! He PROMISED!!"

            Jazz could only hold his sparkling, tears trailing down his own cheeks as Bluestreak collapsed into a shivering, sobbing heap, the little hits eventually stopping as the dark gray youngling simply clung to his carrier, wailing.

            "I'm so sorry, baby..." Jazz whispered, rocking slightly. "I'm so sorry...."

 

*********

 

            It was harder than anything he had ever done, waking up each day without Prowl beside him. Every morning was a battle, a struggle simply to open his optics and force himself to get up and fuel. He was never hungry anymore; the only reason he remembered to get Energon at all was Bluestreak's smiling faceplates as he waited eagerly for his morning meal.

            Jazz's world had narrowed down to two things; his job and his sparkling. Ratchet and Optimus had conspired together to try and give Jazz less missions away from the Ark in order to give him enough time to be with Bluestreak. He had resigned from the previous positions of power he held, both commander of SpecOps and TIC, Mirage taking both of these spots. Prowl's position had been given to Smokescreen, who had been learning under the older Praxian for long enough that Prime considered him to be a good replacement.

            But Jazz didn't want to think about these things. He turned his focus to his child, often blocking out the rest of the world. Bluestreak was all that mattered.

            Even though the youngling almost always had a smile on his face, it was obvious to many that he was still missing his creator. Jazz had a suspicion that despite Bluestreak's sorrow at losing his Sire, he knew that his carrier was suffering. It was as though the youngling knew that right now Jazz needed him to smile, to be happy.

            Even though this realization rocked him to the core sometimes, Jazz couldn't help but be grateful. He wasn't sure what he would have done without Bluestreak's smiles.

            He didn't really know what to do with himself anymore. There were still a few who tried to get him to participate like he used to, but most of them had given up trying after a few months. Blaster still came around, talking of parties and dancing like they used to, but Jazz couldn't find it in his spark to enjoy his old hobbies. They just didn't bring him happiness anymore.

            The only thing that brought him any sort of joy was seeing Bluestreak grow and learn. The youngling was the only bright spot in his life now. He went through the motions of his job, doing whatever was asked of him, but Bluestreak made him live again, even just a little.

            Every day was a struggle, but one day things took a turn for the worse.

            Jazz awoke slowly, groggy, and discovered with mild panic that he could hardly draw in air and his frame was overheating. His vents were wide open, gasping raggedly, but it was as though nothing was getting in. His fans made a buzzing sound, but didn't activate. He tried to figure out what was happening, to run a scan, anything, but his systems were flashing warnings on his HUD, he was dizzy and sick, and could barely move. Groaning faintly, Jazz struggled to activate his comm link, and just managed to connect with Ratchet.

            _::Jazz? It's 3 in the morning.::_

Desperately Jazz tried to answer him, but he got nothing but a burst of garbled static through. "Ratch...et..." he finally forced out, his vocalizer shorting after he managed to get the medic's name out. He tried to speak, to call for help, but nothing but a burst of moaning static issued from his lips.

            _::Jazz?.! I'm on my way, hold on!::_

The world began to blur, and weakly Jazz tried once more to pull in air, to activate his internal fans, anything. His heat soaked processors flailed, and then everything began to slide.

            _::Jazz?.! Jazz!::_

***********

           

            When Jazz next onlined, it was to the familiar ceiling of the medbay, his systems sluggish, but no longer far too hot. He blinked slowly, and then raised a hand to pet along little doorwings; Bluestreak was curled up against his abdomen.

            This scenario was far too similar to what had happened.... that day.

            "Good to see you awake."

            Jazz turned his gaze, meeting Ratchet's optics and smiling faintly. "Hey."

            Ratchet folded his arms over his chestplates, his expression deadly serious. "You nearly died, Jazz."

            A slow blink was his only response, and the medic felt faintly horrified at the lack of worry and fear at that news in Jazz's optics. "What happened?" Jazz asked after a moment, still stroking Bluestreak's doorwings lightly.

            "Your temperature regulator malfunctioned. Your processors had nearly melted down by the time I got to you; I nearly lost your spark just trying to cool you down." Silence fell for a moment, and then Ratchet continued, his voice softer. "Jazz.... other systems were showing signs of being well on their way to failing. Are you performing regular maintenance?"  
            Jazz nodded slightly. "Bluestreak makes sure I do. He pesters me if I don't."

            Ratchet scoffed a little. "The fact that your youngling has to remind you to take care of yourself is already distressing. Jazz.... you need to get your helm on straight. I can't imagine what you're going through, but that little sparkling needs you, and he needs you healthy."

            "I know." Jazz whispered in reply. "I just... I forget. It's like my processor has been wiped half the time. All I can think about is Prowl, at least whenever I'm not with Bluestreak." He turned his gaze to said youngling, his optics tired and sad. "I try not to..." Jazz's optics met his as the saboteur laid a hand over his chest, and the medic felt his spark constrict at his next words. "It hurts, Ratchet."

            Unfortunately the medic had no answer to that.

 

*********

 

            A few weeks later, they found out that it wasn't the fact that Jazz had trouble remembering to do maintenance.

            Jazz was working a shift at comms, Bluestreak playing quietly at his pedes, when the black and white mech suddenly stiffened, prompting Bluestreak to look up at his carrier. He blinked when he saw the tense set of Jazz's mouth, the trembling in his hands, and reached up to put a hand on his knee.

            "Cari?"

            A flinch answered him as soon as he touched his carrier and Jazz looked down at him sharply, and Bluestreak's little doorwings wilted slightly. Jazz suddenly spoke, his voice halting and tense. "Bluestreak, I need you to get someone."

            The youngling blinked, but did as he was told. He had learned that when Jazz used that particular tone of voice there were to be no questions or arguing. He rose to his pedes and went to where Sunstreaker was moodily manning the other station, standing quietly beside the golden mech before speaking. "Sunny?"

            The golden twin jerked his head around, and then focused on the tiny youngling near his chair. His features softened only marginally; the young frontliner had a soft spot for the tiny mechling, even if he would never admit it. "What is it Bluestreak?"

            "Cari said I needed to get someone. I think something's wrong."

            Sunstreaker blinked, and then disconnected himself from his station, rising to his pedes and going to stand beside Jazz. To his immense surprise the saboteur flinched as he came into view, and Sunstreaker's optics widened. "Jazz?"  
            "Contact Ratchet." Jazz said tersely.

            A frown answered him. "Can't you do that?"

            Jazz tilted his head slightly, taking far longer than he should have to answer Sunstreaker's question. "I can't hear. Everything audial is gone, comms, the works."

            A bolt of surprise and faint panic went through Sunny, and he instantly opened a comm link to Ratchet, asking the medic to make his way to comms immediately. Bluestreak shifted worriedly near the golden mech's pedes, and absently Sunny reached down to stroke a hand across the back of the youngling's helm. Bluestreak responded to this action by raising a hand and wrapping a little fist around Sunny's first two fingers. The golden mech blinked, but grasped the mechling's hand, squeezing in an attempt to comfort him.

            Ratchet arrived promptly, optics narrowed slightly. "What's going on in here?"

            "Jazz says that he's lost all audial." Sunstreaker replied, his own voice tense. He knew as well as Ratchet did that failing systems were not a good sign, and since the death of Jazz's bondmate, most of the mechs that were close to the saboteur were on edge.

            The medic blinked, and then knelt down beside Jazz, extending a cable that he showed Jazz, at which the black and white mech tilted his head to allow him access to the medical port. Ratchet was still for a long moment, and then swore softly before catching himself in front of Bluestreak. "The part of his processor that handles audial and comms is fried. I won't know why until I can get in there and replace it, do a thorough analysis."

            "This isn't good, is it Ratchet?" Bluestreak murmured quietly.

            A smile came to Ratchet's features, though it didn't really reach his optics. "Your carrier will be fine, Blue. Sunstreaker, you should go back to your shift on comms. I'll talk to Smokescreen about getting a replacement for Jazz, and find somewhere to take Bluestreak."

            Bluestreak instantly shifted. "I can't come with Cari?"

            "No, I'm afraid not, little one." Ratchet said gently. "He needs surgery, and I can't take you with me into the surgical bay."

            "Sideswipe says that Blue can come play games with him." Sunstreaker broke in. "He's watched Blue before, Jazz should be fine with it."

            Ratchet nodded. "That sounds fine." He disconnected from Jazz and then pulled the mech upright with a gentle hand on his upper arm. Jazz didn't protest, knowing that they were heading for medbay and following quietly. He spared a glance at Bluestreak and Sunstreaker, then smiled as the golden mech tapped his chestplate and mouthed 'Sides,' knowing that his youngling would be safe.

            Outwardly, Ratchet was simply dealing with a worn out part, a simple and easy replacement and surgery.

            On the inside though, Ratchet knew that something bigger was happening to Jazz, and if it was what he thought, then they were going to have a problem on their hands.

 

***********

 

            Ratchet's worst fears ended up being confirmed.

            Even though Jazz was getting proper maintenance, his systems were still failing far faster than a normal mech's. His processor wanted to go on, but his spark just wasn't strong enough anymore to support his frame.

            Jazz would fade.

            "It's okay Ratchet." Jazz murmured softly at the news. "I'll hold on for as long as I can. You just keep me going, okay? I have to make it until Blue's upgrade, at least. Only a few more vorns."

            Ratchet wiped a hand over his face in a very human gesture. "I'll... do what I can Jazz. I can't guarantee anything. But I'll do my best."

            Jazz smiled lightly. "That's all I ask, my friend."

 

***********

 

            Bluestreak knew from an early age that his carrier would leave him one day.

            It wasn't that he wanted to, but he had to. That was how his carrier explained it to him, all those vorns ago when he was still in his youngling frame. He was used to taking care of his carrier, helping him in the mornings when he couldn't seem to get going, making sure that he remembered to fuel and maintain himself.

            Bluestreak knew that this was backwards; his carrier should be taking care of him, not the other way around. Even so, he loved his carrier more than anything, and he was okay with helping. He liked to help.

            This particular morning, though, was hard. Bluestreak awoke at his normal time, a few human hours before his shift was to begin. After getting a cube of low-grade Energon, the only kind that his carrier could keep down anymore, he made his way through the suite he shared with his carrier, knocking softly on the door to the other recharge room before opening it anyway.

            "Carrier? It's time to get up."

            Jazz was laid out on the double berth that he had never replaced, curled up on his side with his hand stretched out to rest on the side of the pad that had once belonged to Bluestreak's sire. The gray mech felt a pang of longing in his spark at this familiar and sad sight; he missed his sire every day, but he knew that it didn't compare to what his carrier felt.

            It took nearly a breem to rouse Jazz, a period of time that kept getting longer. Bluestreak knew somewhere deep in his spark that this was a sign that he would lose his carrier soon, and he couldn't help but feel a stab of fear at the thought that there might be a morning when Jazz just wouldn't wake up. Jazz blinked sightless optics up at him, rubbing a shaking hand across his face. "Blue?"  
            "Good morning." Bluestreak said, making sure that his voice was warm and loving. Jazz might not be able to see him anymore, not after his visual center had failed and Ratchet had been unable to save it, but he could read his creation's voice like a book. "I brought you Energon."

            "Thanks Blue." Jazz said softly, raising a hand that Bluestreak pushed the cube into. Jazz's hands shook as he cracked the seal and drained the liquid slowly, giving his finicky tanks time to accept the fuel. There were often times when, no matter how careful he was, he couldn't keep anything down.

            It was simply a part of life now. Jazz was often ill, berth-ridden or trapped in the medbay until Ratchet gave him the okay to return to his quarters.

            Bluestreak watched this with sad optics. It hadn't been this bad for most of the time after his sire had been taken from them. His carrier had been absent-minded sometimes when it came to taking care of himself, and sometimes he had systems fail, but Ratchet had always been able to fix them, and Jazz had returned to Bluestreak with that sad smile and open arms.

            It was only in the last vorn that Jazz's condition steadily began to deteriorate. No matter how much Ratchet tried to save his systems, they continued to fail one by one. Jazz was blind, had permanent tremors, could barely keep anything in his tanks, and often had trouble standing and walking. One day, after a particularly violent purging that had left Jazz weak and nearly in stasis, Ratchet had quietly stood beside Bluestreak watching as the small mech vented shakily.

            _"You know Bluestreak, he's only hanging on because of you. Jazz should have faded vorns ago. I'm impressed he's kept on this long."_

The words had been just like Ratchet; blunt, painful, but necessary to hear. Bluestreak had known for a long time, after all, that his carrier would leave him. He had practically grown up knowing this, accepting it, and yet...

            Now that the time had come, he found that he had a hard time letting go.

            But today... today was special. Today was the anniversary of his Sire's loss, and Bluestreak felt that his Carrier needed to know that he was ready.

            "We're going to go up to the cliffs today, Carrier. I know you like it up there." Bluestreak chattered quietly while he helped Jazz to stand.

            Jazz turned his face towards his creation's voice, a small smile on his features. "I enjoy it because you do. I remember the first time we took you up there. You just stared and stared, it was the first time that you'd been so quiet since you emerged. Prowl..." Jazz's voice cracked, and he reset his vocalizer before continuing in a softer voice. "Prowl was worried until I gave you a bounce and you just started clicking and cooing like nothing had happened."

            Bluestreak smiled, pulling Jazz's hand into the crook of his arm so he could balance his carrier as they walked. "It's really neat to be able to look out across the land. When I was little, I used to think that I could see the whole world from up there. The sky was just so close..."

            "It's like being just a little closer to home." Jazz murmured softly.

            As they left the Ark Jazz raised his face to the heat of the sun, smiling slightly as he limped slowly along beside Bluestreak. The taller mech couldn't help but smile lovingly at the expression on his carrier's face; it was something that he very rarely saw. Those little moments when Jazz almost had that contentment back that he had lost with Prowl's death.

            The trip was uneventful, only the sounds of a few animals to keep them company. The cliffs weren't far, and it wasn't long before they were sitting near the edge, Jazz settled beside Bluestreak, leaning slightly against his creation's shoulder to help him keep his balance. Silence fell between them, and after a few long moments Bluestreak heaved in air, shuddering faintly.

            "I love you carrier."

            Jazz blinked his empty optics, shifting to face the gray mech. "I love you too, baby. Are you okay?"

            "I just.... I wanted to tell you something. Something important." Bluestreak replied, trying to force calm into his voice.

            A faintly mischievous look came onto his carrier's features. "Did Sunstreaker finally break down and ask you to bond with him and Sideswipe?"

            Bluestreak's doorwings jerked upright with an audible sound that made Jazz chuckle faintly. "Carrier! You're not supposed to talk about that, it's awkward enough without you jumping in!" He fidgeted. "Please... this is serious."

            Jazz's expression faded, and he grew quiet. "Bluestreak?" he asked after a long moment where nothing was said, his voice slightly worried.

            "I.... I wanted to tell you that... I'm ready."

            Sightless optics widened faintly. "Blue?"

            "I'm ready to be on my own now." Bluestreak said firmly. "I know that you hurt every day, but you keep holding on just to make sure that I'm okay, but I wanted to tell you that I am! I really am okay to be on my own, and I've got Sunny and Sides, and Ratchet and Wheeljack, and all the others to look out for me! It's not that I don't need you anymore, I'll always need my carrier, and I love you, but..." he nodded sharply, conviction in his tone and gaze. "You can let go now."

            Jazz had one hand half raised to his mouth, his lips open in shock, optics wide. He shook slightly, and then gasped. "Blue..."

            Bluestreak lurched forward, wrapping his carrier up in a warm hug. "Really, it's okay. I'll be okay. You can go be with Sire. Tell him how much I miss him, and that I'll be excited to see him again when it's my turn to return to the Well."

            A shudder made its way through Jazz's frame, and he let out a sob, curling against the strong, more powerful than he had ever known, body of his creation. "When did you get to be so strong, Bluestreak?" Jazz choked out through his sobs.

            "I learned it from you, Carrier."

 

************

 

            Bluestreak wasn't sure later when it happened exactly. He simply sat there, optics closed as he leaned back to let the sun hit his face, his carrier leaning against his shoulder. He felt more at peace with the world than he had in a long time, and a sort of weight had been lifted from his spark. He turned, opening his mouth to say something to his carrier, but the words died before they ever left his vocalizer.

            Jazz was still and silent against his side, his plating ashen. Bluestreak felt loss crawl through him, but as he carefully lowered the empty shell of his carrier to the ground, he couldn't help but smile.

            The expression on Jazz's face could only be described as absolute peace. 


	3. Losing Sanity

It was a day that, even vorns later, would haunt Ratchet's recharge no matter how much he wanted to delete the memory files.

            Everything had started out as a day like any other; normal morning, normal Decepticons attacking some random place for some reason that Ratchet didn't bother to know, same normal battle...

            Until everything went wrong.

            Ratchet had always known that the Twins were going to do something that would get them killed, but he hoped nevertheless that it would be long after he was gone. He didn't want to have to watch them die, either on the field or under his hands and have him be helpless to save them. He was, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, very fond of the red and gold pair; they had wormed their way into his spark.

            He loved those thrice damned Twins, despite how much he denied it.

            Ratchet was across the battle field, performing a quick patch for Ironhide even as the big mech continued to fire at Decepticons when he heard the scream. He looked up, ready to find his next patient and rush over, when his optics zeroed in on the familiar red form falling through the air.

            _Sideswipe..._

The red twin was flailing, trying to get his jetpack going, trailing smoke as he fell from the disappearing form of Dirge. Ratchet rose to his pedes, already running to where he knew the twin was going to land, even though he knew somewhere in his spark that there was no way Sideswipe was going to survive a fall from that height, not long enough for him to help.

            When Sideswipe disappeared from sight, there was a long moment where there was nothing, no hint as to what was going on, and then the air was shattered with a roar. The audio-shattering, angry bellow made Ratchet whip around, his optics wide and searching for the source.

            He didn't have to look far.

            Sunstreaker was barreling across the battlefield like a whirlwind, taking out any mech in his path with flashing claws and angry screams. His optics were blazing white, Energon coating his golden paint as he relentlessly mowed down whoever was unlucky enough to be between him and his twin. Ratchet instantly tore after him, sparing only a moment to make sure that the Autobots who had been unfortunate enough to fall beneath Sunstreaker's claws were alright.

            He burst into the area to find Sunstreaker crouched over Sideswipe's prone body, snarling at anyone who tried to get close, nearly tearing off First Aid's arm as the quiet white medic tried to get close to assess Sideswipe's condition.

            Ratchet, however, could tell from a distance that there was nothing that could be done. Sideswipe was dead, and there was nothing they could do to change that. His optics were half-shuttered, dark as they stared towards the sky. The slightly fearful look on his faceplates told Ratchet that he had lived for a few moments after hitting the ground, but the pool of Energon made it easy to see that Sideswipe's fuel tanks had no doubt ruptured on impact, and the shattered state of his helm was visible even from this distance.

            Even if he had been standing right next to the red mech, Ratchet would have been able to do nothing except watch him die.

            Steeling himself, Ratchet started forward, intent on getting Sunstreaker to calm down. He was guarding his brother's dead body, snarling and clawing like an animal cornered, and he knew that unless he got the golden twin to calm down, things could get bad quickly.

            "Sunstreaker!" he yelled as he got closer, and instantly blazing white optics whirled to him. Sunstreaker bared his denta in an angry snarl, crouching closer to Sideswipe's graying form, his body shaking. Ratchet held up both hands, staying still and keeping his voice calm and steady. "It's alright Sunny." he murmured, just loud enough for the mech to hear. "It's Ratchet, see? I'm here to help. You need to calm down, alright?"

            Sunstreaker watched him, heaving air in and out of his vents, and then it was as though a haze cleared. "R-Ratchet...? You... You'll fix Sides, right?" He started to straighten, and Ratchet found it safe to approach. Sunstreaker tensed as he got close, but did nothing as Ratchet came to stand beside him.

            "Sunny..." Ratchet said slowly. "There's nothing I can do for Sideswipe."

            "You have to!" Sunstreaker replied quickly. "I can't feel him, something's wrong! You have to make it better, Ratchet, you always make it better!"

            Ratchet felt his spark breaking. "I'm sorry Sunny, Sideswipe's gone."

            Absent optics blinked at him. "Where did he go? Can you bring him back? I need him, Ratchet." He crept backwards, one pede colliding with Sideswipe's gray arm. "Why did he leave me?" Ratchet watched sadly as Sunstreaker shrank down beside his twin, his expression lost. "We made a promise... we have to go together..."

            Ratchet knew he was losing the golden twin quickly. He took another step forward. "It'll be alright... Will you let me help you?"

            He was walking a fine line here. He didn't know if Sunstreaker would snap and get more violent if he attempted to touch him, or if the mech was simply going to remain in this strange, sparkling-like state that he was in. Ratchet took another step forward, and then slowly reached out.

            The worst happened.

            Sunstreaker's optics flared white, and with a snarl he struck. Ratchet barely knew what was happening when he was suddenly on his back, the air knocked out of his vents and his optics wide. _"You won't touch him!"_ Sunstreaker roared, raising a clawed hand to strike.

            **_BOOM._**

            Ratchet could only stare with wide optics as Sunstreaker's arm exploded and he was knocked sideways, Energon spurting from the broken cables. Letting out a shout Ratchet pushed himself up, instantly trying to stem the bleed. Sunstreaker was staring up at him, venting rapidly as his remaining hand crawled across the ground to find Sideswipe's.

            "Stay with me, Sunny." Ratchet growled as his hands worked frantically.

            Sunstreaker's optics drifted to him. "Ratchet...? I want... I want to see Sides. Where is Sides?"

            And in that moment Ratchet knew that Sunstreaker was fading.

            He swallowed, and then spoke. "You'll see him in a moment Sunny. He's waiting for you."

            "Oh..." the golden twin murmured, his optics listing away towards the air above Sideswipe's body. "Oh. There he is. Thanks Ratch--"

            And then he was gone.

            Shuddering Ratchet sat back, heaving in a vent and watching as the others ran up. Ironhide, the one who had fired the shot that had taken off Sunstreaker's arm, was anxious, optics wide and bright with stress. "Ratchet, I... I didn't think.... I just needed to stop him from hurting you...!"

            Ratchet shook his head. "It's alright, 'Hide. He was leaving whether we wanted him to or not." Slowly the medic reached out, sliding a hand over Sunstreaker's face to close his optics, doing the same for Sideswipe a moment later. They looked strangely peaceful like this, their faceplates suddenly so young and innocent.

            "I'm so sorry..." Ratchet whispered. "I'm sorry..."


	4. Losing Beauty

The first time Sideswipe came out of stasis, he didn’t know what had happened. Ratchet found himself torn; he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to tell the red mech that had become like family to him.

            Didn’t know how to tell him that his twin was dead.

            Sideswipe had sat up, his optics strangely over-bright, looking around the room before focusing on the white and red medic. “Ratchet, where’s Sunny? Did you kick him out again?”

            Ratchet was frozen; for once he didn’t have an immediate comeback, didn’t know how to put into words that Sunstreaker had died on site, had bled out beneath Ratchet’s frantic hands. He reset his vocalizer, and then placed a shaking hand on Sideswipe’s knee. “What do you remember about today, Sides?”

            The frontliner blinked. “Well, there was a fight. It’s all a little fuzzy, but I know that I was near a cliff, and there were rocks falling…” he shook his head faintly, and then turned that disturbing, too-bright gaze back to Ratchet. “Must have gotten smushed beneath all those rocks. But you fixed me up, right? So where’s Sunny at? Usually he’d be in here complaining about me being an idiot. Or did he scratch his paint?” A grin passed over Sideswipe’s face, and Ratchet’s spark constricted within his chest.

            “Sideswipe…” the medic murmured faintly. “You didn’t get crushed under the rocks.”

            “Well that’s good!” Sideswipe put in, but stopped when Ratchet’s hand tightened on his knee.

            “You didn’t get crushed… because Sunstreaker pushed you out of the way.” Ratchet watched as Sideswipe’s face fell, his optics widening and his lips parting. “He managed to get you out from under the majority of the boulders, but you took a pretty hard hit to the head. Prime and Ironhide got him out, and I…” he stopped, having to reset his vocalizer again. “I did everything I could…”

            Sideswipe was shaking his head, his expression lost and pained, his frame trembling beneath Ratchet’s hand. “No…”

            Ratchet continued, knowing that he had to tell Sideswipe what happened, had to get him out of this state before the denial consumed him. “The impact ruptured his tanks and his fuel pump; there was nothing that I could have done.”

            The red mech scrambled backwards, out from under Ratchet’s hand and against the corner where the berth was pressed to the walls, his hands pressed to his face, his head still shaking back and forth. “No, no, no,nononono……”

“Sunstreaker is dead, Sideswipe.”

Ratchet would never forget the wail that followed those words. He found that Sideswipe wouldn’t let him get any closer, and in the end he had to sedate him to stop his screaming.

_********_

The second time Sideswipe awoke in medbay, it took mere seconds for the screaming to start. Ratchet startled out of recharge where he was sitting in the chair beside the frontliner’s berth, trying in vain to calm him before sedating him once more. Shaking, the medic ran a hand over his face, settling back in the chair and trying to still his trembling frame.

            The third time, Sideswipe cried. Tears flowed seemingly without end across his face, his body trembling with each silent sob. Ratchet sat with him again, but Sideswipe refused to allow his touch, and the medic could do nothing more than watch as the red mech grieved.

            It was during this stretch of wakefulness Optimus, Prowl, and Jazz visited. Ratchet quietly told them of what was happening and what had been going on for the past orns. Optimus, his face unmasked and worried, had asked what his thoughts on the matter were.

            “I don’t know.” Ratchet murmured faintly, at which Jazz made a pained noise. The saboteur was very fond of the twins; the loss of Sunstreaker had hit him hard, and the news that they might lose Sideswipe as well made him wilt slightly beside his bondmate. Prowl flared a door wing behind the smaller mech, doing what he could to shield him.

            Optimus left with a request to keep him informed, while Prowl and Jazz took a moment to go to medbay and see the red frontliner. Sideswipe didn’t acknowledge them, out of tears and still on the pad. Jazz stroked his face and helm gently, murmuring to him, before he left with slumped shoulders and faint tear marks seeping from beneath his visor.

            The fourth time Ratchet was forced to restrain Sideswipe when the frontliner surged off the berth, his hands curled into fists, anger on his face. “WHY!.?” he screamed, raging against the thick straps that held him down. “WHY?.!”

            Ratchet didn’t know how to answer him, and so for most of the orn he was silent, struggling to resist the urge to turn off his audio receptors. After a few joors the medbay went silent, and, thinking that Sideswipe had perhaps passed out Ratchet went into the private room that he had put the red mech into after the first orn.

            Instead Sideswipe was lying limply on the berth, face stained with tears, body shaking. “Why…?” he whispered. “Why…?” When he saw Ratchet he said something that shook the medic to the core. “Why didn’t you let me die with him?”

            After that comment Ratchet found that he couldn’t stay there any longer; he called for First Aid to watch the medbay and secluded himself in his quarters, shaking.

            The fifth time, Sideswipe begged. “Please…” he whispered faintly from the berth as Ratchet worked quietly at the desk in the corner, unwilling to leave the red mech alone for the fear that he’d find a way to hurt himself after the comment the previous orn. Ratchet looked up, his optics over-bright with too many emotions. “Please…” Sideswipe whispered again. “Please let me go…”

            “You might hurt yourself, Sideswipe.” Ratchet replied quietly.

            “Let me go to him…”

            Ratchet sucked in a vent of air in shock, and then turned back to his project, his hands trembling faintly. There was a knock at the door, and it opened to admit Jazz, who looked a little worse for the wear after the last several orns. The saboteur spared the medic a faint smile, and then moved to sit beside Sideswipe.

            “Jazz…” Sideswipe murmured, and for a moment everything seemed to be okay. Jazz smiled, reaching towards Sideswipe in order to take his hand. Sideswipe’s next words shocked them all.

            “Jazz…. Please Jazz… if you love me… kill me…”

            Jazz jerked backwards, letting out a sharp vent in shock. Ratchet whirled around, his optics wide. Sideswipe took no notice of either reaction, still quietly begging. “Please kill me… I want to go to him… I can’t live without him… Let me die… please let me die…”

            A soft keen escaped Jazz’s vocalizer and he turned, very nearly running from the room. Ratchet watched him go, and then turned back to his worktable, turning off his audio receptors after hooking into the monitoring systems so he would know if something happened to Sideswipe’s vitals.

            He couldn’t stand to hear the red mech’s pleas for death.

            The sixth time, Sideswipe just lay on the med-berth, limp and unresponsive. Ratchet tried to get him to speak, to move, anything, but the red twin simply stared straight ahead, his optics empty and his faceplates slack. His spark breaking, Ratchet sat with him, talking quietly to him while one hand stroked across the red plating, trying to get through to him. Two joors after he woke, Sideswipe simply closed his optics and powered down, leaving Ratchet shaking and holding back coolant tears.

            This became the norm, and only two orns after Sideswipe entered the catatonic state his body started rejecting the energon that Ratchet had been pumping into his systems. It was when this happened that Ratchet knew Sideswipe was going to join his brother, with or without their help. He called Optimus and told him that he was going to stop all attempts to keep the red frontliner alive, that he was doing nothing more than slowing the inevitable. The Prime quietly agreed with his decision, and then sent Jazz and Prowl to say goodbye.

            Jazz cried softly, stroking Sideswipe’s forehelm gently, trying to get him to respond one last time. Sideswipe just stared silently at the ceiling, and Jazz pressed a shaky kiss to his cheek. “I love you, little one.” he murmured faintly. “Tell Sunny that I love him, too, and that we’ll see you both in the Well.”

            Prowl was silent behind his mate, but the stiff hold of his door wings made his internal thoughts fairly clear. Before he left he passed a hand over Sideswipe’s helm in a brief gesture of love, and Ratchet pretended not to see the tears on his face.

            Ratchet debated for a short while before making his decision of what he would do next. With the help of Jazz, Prowl, and Red Alert, they cleared the halls of the Ark and Ratchet carried Sideswipe through the halls to the quarters that he had shared with his twin. Sideswipe lay silently in his arms, somehow feeling heavier than any burden Ratchet had ever carried, and yet the medic had no trouble taking him to his own berth.

            Once inside the room Ratchet gently laid the red mech on the double berth that he had once shared with Sunstreaker, stepping back and dragging a chair against the wall to sit beside the berth, intent on remaining with Sideswipe until the very end.

            Several breems passed with no movement, and then Sideswipe shifted, his fingers twitching lightly as his helm turned towards Ratchet; towards the side of the berth that Ratchet knew Sunstreaker had recharged on. Ratchet blinked faintly, and then rose back to his pedes, reaching out and gently rolling Sideswipe onto his side, facing Sunstreaker’s side of the berth. A black hand drifted across the pad, and then clenched in the soft mesh pillow that Sunstreaker had used to help cradle his elaborate helm.

            Ratchet watched silently as Sideswipe curled towards Sunstreaker’s side of the berth and then went still with a great release of air, closing his optics.

            Less than a breem later, he was gone. 


	5. Losing Spontaneity

            It started out as a day like any other, the day that Ratchet's life fell apart.

            There were a few maintenance appointments, run of the mill things really. Jazz had a checkup scheduled early in the morning, a follow-up after the mission that he had had a few days ago and had returned from injured. The black and white mech had been happy and back to his old self, and Ratchet had been pleased to send him back to duty with a clean bill of health. A few of the minibots had come through for routine checks, and the only speed-bump in the morning had been Sideswipe, who had come in with a dislocated shoulder after spending the morning poking his brother.

            Nevertheless, it was a good morning. Ratchet was in a good mood, the Decepticons were quiet, and things were right in the world.

            **_BOOM._**

            The explosion rocked the _Ark_ , making Ratchet fall back against a berth from where he had been cleaning up after the last appointment, his optics wide in surprise for only a nanoklik before pain exploded in his spark. It was quickly cut off, but the medic knew immediately that the explosion had come from Wheeljack's lab. His wayward mate had gone and gotten himself hurt again.

            Scrambling, Ratchet snatched up his portable medkit and raced from the bay, First Aid close on his heels as the medic-in-training popped out of side room where he had been doing inventory. There were alarms going in the halls, and Ratchet could smell smoke and hear the crackling of flames.

            As he skidded around the corner he spotted what used to be the door to Wheeljack's lab; there was nothing but a wide, charred hole in the bulkhead, and Ratchet could see fires burning inside, though he could barely view anything through the thick black smoke.

            Coughing, the medic pushed forward, sending out a pulse through his bond with Wheeljack to locate him. There was a weak response, and Ratchet immediately zeroed in on his bondmate, rushing forward towards him.

            What he saw nearly crashed his processor.

            Wheeljack's entire right side was _gone_ , Energon spurting from multiple shredded lines and sparks flaring from ripped wiring. There was nothing where his arm should have been, and a chunk had been taken out of his chest and abdominal plates. His right leg was hanging by little more than a few plates at his inner thigh, and the fin on the right side of his helm was missing, scorch marks covering his forehelm and blast mask while his right optic sparked feebly.

            Wheeljack's snapping back the mask and coughing up Energon spurred Ratchet into action and he darted forward, instantly beginning to seal up the leaks while First Aid did the same beside him. Inferno appeared, starting to put out the fires that still burned around them. Ratchet worked quickly, and for once quietly, at which point all mechs present knew that this was bad. Ratchet was only ever quiet when things were at their worst.

            His fingers shaking, Ratchet worked as fast as he can, but it seemed that no matter what the pool of Energon beneath his knees was continuing to spread. Wheeljack was watching him quietly, a sad, tired look on his faceplates and his optics dim. "I'm sorry..." he whispered quietly after a moment. "I didn't mean for this to happen..."

            "You never do." Ratchet snapped back. "Just be quiet and let me do my job."

            "Things were going so well..." Wheeljack murmured, his vocalizer a little fuzzy. "I thought I had something good this time..." The shutter on his working optic dipped a little, and Ratchet felt a bolt of panic shoot through him.

            "Don't go into recharge, 'Jack. I need you to stay with me, okay?" Ratchet said fiercely as he rolled his bondmate slightly so he could reach his side. He swore mentally when he realized that he could see Wheeljack's spark chamber, dented and blackened through the hole in his side. 

            Wheeljack huffed faintly, a wet sound that proved his O2 systems were filling with Energon. "Don't know if I can do that, Ratch.... I really am sorry..."

            Ratchet growled, wanting to hit him but not wanting to risk hurting him further. "Don't you even think about saying goodbye, you hear me? You're not allowed to die, not yet."

            First Aid made a faint worried sound from behind him, but Ratchet paid it no mind, his fingers soaked in Energon as he tried to seal the line that was pumping Energon across the floor from near Wheeljack's spark chamber.

            "I love you, Ratch, you know that, right? Remember when I first saw you... thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen..." Wheeljack's voice was fading, his optic dimming as he spoke.

            "Stay with me!" Ratchet's voice was wet with held back tears, pleading.

            "Didn't mean for this to happen..." Wheeljack whispered. "Want to stay..."

            Ratchet felt his spark begin to ache, and he knew what was happening. His fingers were shaking so hard that he couldn't get a grip on any of the lines anymore, his vision blurred by tears. "Don't go!" he shouted, no longer caring that there were others in the room as his spark snatched frantically at the fading wisps of his bondmate. "Don't leave me!!"

            "Love you..."

            "NO!" Ratchet screamed, whipping out a cord and pushing it directly against Wheeljack's spark chamber. Electricity burst through the line and the inventor's body jerked, seizing before going limp. Ratchet sobbed, repeating the shock again and again, the pain in his spark overwhelming.

            Hands grabbed at his shoulders, removed the line from Wheeljack's graying body, and he fought, thrashing in their grip screaming his mate's name. "WHEELJACK!! LET ME GO! LET ME SAVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LET ME SAVE HIM! **_LET GO, LET GO!!"_**

There was a jolt of ice in his lines and then darkness claimed him.

 

*************

            Ratchet woke with a new purpose.

            Healing had always been his calling; after being a Senator for as long as he had, it had been a joy to be able to heal, to work with his hands and put his knowledge and skills to good use. That had been his purpose.

            It was different now. Now all he had to do was finish First Aid's training. Then he could be with Wheeljack.

            He never said a word to anyone. He got the typical worried looks, concerned speeches, and comforting visits from nearly everyone on the Ark, but he never said anything about his plans.

            He didn't want them to know, because then they might try to stop him.

            Ratchet felt bad about leaving Optimus, he really did. But he was just so... tired. He would finish training First Aid, and then he could finally rest. The kid was good, and with the help of Hoist, he would be fine. Swoop was coming along great as well, and once the dinobot was trained up, the medbay would be fine without him.

            The Autobots would be okay without him.

 

******************

 

            Ratchet sighed, running a hand over his optics tiredly as he looked over the last of the reports from the day. First Aid had done well, and it was getting to the point where he no longer needed his mentor to stand over him double checking everything.

            _Yes._ Ratchet thought quietly. _He's ready._

_I'm ready._

The anesthetic gleamed faintly in the vial sitting before him. It had been in his desk since the day he had awoken with a hole in his spark, waiting for the time when it would be used. He had thought about it many times, but had held off, knowing that he had to finish what he needed to do, what his purpose was, before he could use it.

            But now it was time, and the vial felt almost warm in his grasp as he slid it into the injection gun. It would be easy, quiet. Just going into recharge and waking up with Wheeljack.

            Ratchet smiled slightly, and slid the needle into the main Energon line in his arm. Warmth exploded from the spot, flowing up his arm and across his systems as he carefully laid the needle on his desk. Slowly the red and white mech leaned back in his chair, closing his optics and letting out a vent.

            Everything would be over soon...

            _Wheeljack..._

 

***********

 

            The next morning First Aid walked into the medbay and was slightly surprised that Ratchet wasn't there. His mentor had always been awake before him, as well as in the medbay running through the days' work. Today though, there was no sign of him, and First Aid was momentarily concerned. He pinged Ratchet's comm, and a bolt of fear passed through his spark as he got static in response.

            Instantly the white medic ran from the medbay, across the hall to where Ratchet's quarters were. The door slid open at his code, but the room was empty, and showed no sign that Ratchet had even returned there the night before. Turning, First Aid darted across the hall and into the medbay again, heading straight for Ratchet's office and palming the door open.

            "No..."

            Slowly, tears gathering in his optics, First Aid stepped into the room, his optics locked on the still frame of his mentor. Ratchet was slumped in his chair, helm down and plating long grey. The injection gun on the desk left little doubt about what had happened.

            Ratchet was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you that are looking forward to another chapter of my other story, I regret to inform you that it may take a while before you see anymore on that. Finals are starting up at my college, and the only reason I can continue on this story is because I have a bit backed up. Hopefully things will get rolling once school's out in about a month.


	6. Losing Determination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken me so long. This is my final month at school this year, and I bit off way more than I could chew. It's almost over, so hopefully it won't take me this long again, and while I regret that this is a short chapter, I hope that I can have something else up before the end of next week. Thank you all for being patient with me!

"Ratchet! Ratchet, you have to stop! You're going to kill yourself!" Wheeljack screamed over the sounds of the battle around them, trying to tug his bondmate away from Hound's fallen frame. The green scout was still in stasis, leaking and close to death. Ratchet was no better off, but he refused to give up.

            "I can save him, Wheeljack, just give me a minute!" Ratchet called back, pushing away even more warnings on his HUD and once again overriding the automatic stasis lock that threatened to take him. He knew that Wheeljack was right, that he was going to end up dead, but he had to save Hound. Hound was important, they needed the green scout and his spy bondmate; the Autobots could not afford to lose either of them.

            Ratchet, however, they could survive without.

            Wheeljack growled angrily, but knew that there was no way he was going to be able to get Ratchet away from the fallen scout. He instead attempted to do his best to seal up the leaking hole in his bondmate's side, even though there was hardly anything dripping from the wound anymore. This was a bad sign, and he knew it, but he had to try.

            Hound's optics lit, and Ratchet let out a sigh of relief; he was finally stable. He sent out a ping to Skyfire to come and pick them up, and then finally paid attention to himself.

            He had really done it this time. His vision was a haze of red warnings, and several of them were flashing insistently. Ratchet knew in that moment that there was nothing that could be done. He had mere moments to live.

            "'Jack!" he turned, lifting his hands to cup Wheeljack's face, a soft smile on his face. "I love you 'Jack." His words were quiet, but they carried over the battle around them.

            "No..." Wheeljack whispered, his optics widening even as Ratchet began to fall into his arms.

            The medic was gone before he even landed in his mate's grasp.

 

************

            Wheeljack was found after the battle had ended. He had dragged Ratchet's body to a nearby cave, where he was found curled against the cold gray frame, silent and still. For a tense moment First Aid was terrified that he had just discovered the bodies of his mentors, but his scans revealed that Wheeljack was still alive, though weak and nearly in stasis lock.

            Sadness consumed them all when it finally sank in that they had lost their medic, their dear friend. Many, including the Twins, Jazz, and Prowl, knew that it was now only a matter of time before they lost Wheeljack as well.

            There was a time when many of them thought that things were going to get better. Wheeljack seemed to bounce back after a long while of mourning; he started inventing again, he joked and laughed periodically with others. It was good. The Protectobots and Aerialbots were starting to think that maybe they wouldn't lose their other creator.

            But there were little things that would slip through, that sometimes Wheeljack couldn't catch before someone noticed. There were times when the engineer would simply fade off mid-word, as though completely forgetting what it was that he was talking about. Sometimes he would just stare, optics blank and far away. First Aid once caught him sitting in Ratchet's office, staring quietly at the desk. At first the young bot thought that he was just deep in his own thoughts, but when he returned to the office the next day Wheeljack was still there, sitting in the exact same position.

            "Wheeljack?" First Aid murmured in shock, his optics wide.

            The inventor looked up with a faint, quick intake of air, as though coming out of a trance. "Oh! Hello First Aid! I must have gotten lost in my thoughts! I'd better get back to what I was doing!"

            Then he had simply left, leaving First Aid shocked and afraid at what he had just witnessed. He had later gone to his brothers, shaking as he told them of what had happened.

            In the end it had been Silverbolt that had gone to Prowl, to the SIC that they all trusted to tell them the truth, even if it was something that the others would gloss over in an attempt to hide the difficulty of the situation from them.

            "Prowl.... what's going on?" Silverbolt asked quietly, the rest of the Aerialbots and the Protectobots hovering behind him, all with wide optics and concerned faces. "We're worried about Wheeljack. Something seems... off."

            The Praxian sighed faintly, his expression a little sad. "Of course there is something off about him; he is missing a part of his spark. What would you feel like if you lost one of your brothers, Silverbolt?"

            A simultaneous gasp went through the young bots gathered in front of him, and Silverbolt lifted a hand to put it over his spark. "I... I don't know. I don't want to think about it."

            "Exactly." Prowl responded quietly. "Wheeljack is trying his best to remain calm and outwardly normal, but there is only so long that he can continue. A part of him is gone, and nothing is going to fix that. It's only a matter of time."

            That time ended up being 8 months after Ratchet's death.

            Optimus Prime was in his office, going through the reports of the previous battle and where their reserves stood when there was a ping at his door. He looked up as it slid open, and was a little surprised to see Wheeljack standing there. "Hello Wheeljack. What can I do for you today?"

            "I... I came to apologize, Optimus." Wheeljack murmured quietly, shuffling his pedes faintly where he stood in front of the Prime's desk.

            "Whatever for?" Optimus asked softly, though he knew somewhere in his spark what was about to happen.

            The inventor sighed faintly, his shoulders slumping. "I... I tried, Optimus, I really did. I tried to keep going like I was okay, but I just... I can't. I'm not... not strong enough." Slowly he raised his hands, hugging himself. "I can't do this without him. I just..."

            He looked up in shock as large hands gently rested on his shoulders. "It's okay, my friend." Optimus murmured quietly. "I understand. You don't need to explain yourself to me."

            "Is it... Is it okay if I... go now?" Wheeljack asked softly, his fins glimmering with a hopeful, sad sheen of purple.

            "If that is what you wish." Optimus replied, his spark crying in sadness even as he smiled faintly beneath his battlemask. "I will not keep you from him."

            A shudder passed through Wheeljack's frame, and he bowed his helm. "Thank you. I... Thank you..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I leave his way of passing up to you this time. This just... seemed like the right place to end it.


	7. Losing True Love

"Do you remember our first date?"

            A soft chuckle answered him, and blue optics shifted to meet his. "Of course. It took me nearly a decaorn just to get you to say yes, and even then you were reluctant."

            Elegant features formed a smile. "I wanted to go, even though some part of me felt that I was betraying my house. My family... even though I was the only one left."

            "You were holding onto your house's traditions. 'S one thing I always loved about you, your loyalty and dedication."

            Mirage smiled again, blinking back the tears in his optics. "I'm glad you see it that way. Most just thought I was backwards and stubborn, not letting go of a Cybertron that was long gone."

            The green mech lying before him snorted faintly, turning his helm in the white and blue mech's lap. "They just didn't see you the way I did. You were everything I ever wanted, and the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen."

            "That means a lot coming from you, considering." Mirage chuckled faintly, his slim fingers stroking across his mate's helm.

            Hound made optic contact with him again. "And you know what? You're still the most gorgeous being I've ever seen."

            Mirage choked on a laugh, his fingers trembling before going back to their gentle stroking, never breaking rhythm. "I thought you were... interesting. Different. And I had never had anyone treat me the way that you did. So gentle, but at the same time you didn't treat me like I was made of glass. You treated me like I was a real mech, not some Towers trophy."

            "'Course I did. I've seen you fight. You're beautiful when you fight." Hound replied, a smile on his lips. "You're beautiful no matter what you're doing."

            Mirage's expression crumbled, and the tears finally spilled down his cheeks. "Please don't go..." he whispered, his hands shaking as he pet across Hound's plating. "Please don't leave me. I can't bear it if you leave me. I c-can't..."

            "Shhh..." Hound whispered, his hand sneaking up to grab the spy's trembling fingers. "I'm here. It'll be okay, I promise."

            "I don't w-want you to g-go!" Mirage choked, holding Hound's hand between his own, bending forward until their forehelms touched. "I don't w-want this to end!"

            Hound smiled sadly. "Neither do I, love, but we can't always get the things that we want. We just have to make do with what Primus gives us."

            Mirage stroked his face, biting his lower lip before speaking softly. "We were supposed to have forever. That's what you told me. We would have forever."

            "Unfortunately I'll have to break my promise. We can't decide how long forever is. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." Hound whispered softly, closing his optics.

            Mirage shivered, trying to curl himself closer, his fingers stroking Hound's face and helm. "Please..."

            "I'm sorry..." Hound whispered, his voice finally cracking. "S-Sorry for everything.... I never m-meant for it to end this way... I l-love you... I love you..."

            The white and blue mech keened faintly, rocking back and forth before pressing a kiss to Hound's lips. The green scout kissed back feverishly, and Mirage sobbed as he leaned away.

            "I love you..." the spy murmured.

            There was no response.

            "H-Hound?"

            Hound's face was lax, his optics closed, his hold on Mirage's hand limp.

            "N-no... P-please..."

            And the pain began.

            Mirage keened, pulling his mate to his chest, his body heaving as he rocked back and forth. He couldn't stop the tears, the hurt, the frantic sobbing as he rocked, his face buried against Hound's throat.

            The quiet desert night was shattered by a heart-wrenching wail.

 

************

            He didn't know how long he'd been there, lying quietly on the sand. It was still dark, but he could see the light of the sun on the horizon.

            Mirage blinked dull optics, his gaze traveling to the light before he closed his optics and ignored it. Hound would have loved to see it, he couldn't help but thinking, shivering and snuggling backwards into lax arms.

            He had pulled Hound's arms around himself, just like they always laid in their berth, the scout's wider and stronger frame surrounding him as they recharged. Hound's embrace was safety, it was warmth.              

            It was **_home._**

            Sighing quietly, Mirage went still in his mate's embrace. His spark had been breaking, his entire body feeling as though it was flying apart at the seams. But everything would be okay. He didn't feel much of anything anymore. He was numb, heavy and fuzzy where he lay, wrapped in the loved and familiar arms of his only, true love.

            Recharge called, and Mirage took comfort in the knowledge that when he opened his optics again, he would see Hound.

 

************

            "No..."

            Ratchet felt his spark wilt as they finally arrived at the place where Mirage's emergency beacon had been broadcasting from for the last 3 joors, his optics landing on a scene that would never leave him. "We were too late."

            "Damnit." Jazz ground out. "Damnit!"

            The black and white mech was shaking, his hands rolled into fists, his visor white with stress, anger, and grief. Ratchet reached out, but Prowl beat him there, wrapping his mate in his arms. "We moved as quickly as we could, Jazz."

            "I knew this mission was too much! I knew they were in trouble, I knew it!" Jazz replied, his anger flaring in his words.

            "You couldn't have known that this would happen." Ratchet replied softly. "You couldn't have predicted that Megatron himself would be there."

            Jazz shivered, but said nothing. Prowl held him tighter, and then spoke just as quietly as Ratchet had. "They were together, Jazz. No one could ask for more, in those final moments. And in the end Hound protected his mate."

            Ratchet nodded faintly, turning his gaze back to the grey bodies before them.

            Mirage and Hound were curled up together on the sand, Hound's arms wrapped around the smaller spy, his cheek resting against Mirage's. Their hands were tangled together against Mirage's abdomen, and from this angle it was nearly impossible to see the hole in Hound's chestplate.

            There wasn't a mark on Mirage.

            The sun rose over the quiet desert. 


	8. Losing Elegance

It all started when Mirage got sick.

            Cybertronians didn't often get ill, but viruses did occasionally get into their systems, usually causing problems with venting, Energon processing, temperature regulation, and recharge difficulties. All of these things could be linked to the mech version of a fever, purging, exhaustion, coughing, and rough venting. These viruses were generally easy to spot, as the symptoms were easy for the mech with them to identify, as well as any trained medic. It was as simple as going into the mech's systems, wiping the virus, and then leaving the mech alone as his self-repair dealt with the last of the symptoms.

            When Mirage started feeling nauseous, he left it alone, as this was an early sign and sometimes the virus could be wiped by a mech's own systems and self-repair. He didn't want to bother Ratchet, as the medic was busy dealing with the fallout from their last battle with the Decepticons in which several mechs had been badly injured. It was likely that Ratchet hadn't recharged in several days, and something as simple as a maybe-virus could wait.

            Hound noticed that he wasn't drinking Energon as much as he should be, and had expressed his concern to his mate. Mirage simply smiled, told the green scout that he was feeling a little sick, and had assured him that he would go to Ratchet as soon as the symptoms got any worse. Satisfied with that, Hound had let it go.

            Two Earth days later, he returned to their shared quarters from his double-shift of checking the perimeter to find Mirage lying on their floor, venting heavily, a pool of purged Energon beside him, and his plating burning with fever. Panic had filled Hound; he hadn't even felt a hint of something being wrong, as he and Mirage usually kept their bond tightly locked down when one or both of them were on duty.

            Immediately he commed Ratchet, telling the medic that he was on his way as he lifted Mirage into his arms, running from their rooms and towards the medbay. Ratchet was waiting for him as he entered, concern on his features as he directed Hound to lay the noblemech on a berth. A scan confirmed that it was a virus, buried deep in Mirage's processors.

            It was something that Ratchet had never seen before, and he suspected that it was something that Mirage had gotten on his last SpecOps mission, though he didn't say this to Hound, not wanting to worry him. He told the green mech that he would do all that he could to treat his mate, and told him that the best thing he could do right now was to get some rest and he would comm him in the morning.

            Hound had been reluctant to leave, but had eventually caved to Ratchet's stare and left, returning to his quarters and recharging fitfully, unable to truly rest without his mate beside him. He spent most of the night tossing and turning, his processor on his mate, his spark trying to reach him through the dormant bond.

            What little rest he managed to get was interrupted in the middle of the night by the bond flying open and pain exploding in his spark. He shot upright, letting out a faint cry and clutching at his chest before lurching to his pedes and running from the room.

            Mirage was clearly worse when he arrived; he was panting harshly, condensation beading on his armor and dripping down to the berth. The pain was no doubt because of Mirage's frantic spark rhythm, and Hound dropped onto a stool beside the berth, falling to his elbows against the padding and gathering his mate's hand into his own.

            Ratchet's voice startled him; he hadn't even noticed the medic as he ran into the medbay. "Hound, I.... I've never seen a virus like this before. I've called for Jazz; I have a feeling that this is a product of his last mission."

            Wide blue optics met the medic's gaze. "Soundwave?"

            "Most likely." Ratchet said softly. "I've done what I can to ease his discomfort, but nothing I do seems to even out his systems. The virus is systematically shutting down each of his vital functions. If Jazz can't find the problem..."

            Hound felt as though a hand had reached into his chest and squeezed his spark. "Ratchet..."

            The medic looked down. "I'm sorry Hound."

            There was a long moment where Hound said nothing, only watched his mate vent shakily. "It's okay." he murmured finally, making Ratchet look up sharply with a surprised and confused look on his face. "We knew this day would come. With both of us in SpecOps, we knew that there would be a day where something would happen."

            Hound shifted closer to the berth, his hand coming up to rest against Mirage's forehelm, stroking his heated plating gently while his other hand cradled his mate's slender fingers. "It'll be okay..." he murmured quietly. "Everything will be alright..."

 

************

 

            It was so quiet.

            The only thing that broke the silence was the soft, rhythmic venting from Mirage. It was a sound that Hound realized now that he had taken for granted, on those nights where he hadn't been able to recharge. It wouldn't be long before he would never hear it again.

            But that was okay.

            There was a strange sort of acceptance in his processors and spark. Strange, because he had always assumed that he would be horrified when this day came; sad, panicked, and beyond worry. But now that it was here, he found that he was completely and utterly calm.

            After the long haul of the war, both of them fighting for so long, his beautiful Mirage would finally get to rest. And he would follow his noble as he had when the war began.

            Mirage was venting easily now; Ratchet had dosed him rather heavily with painkillers and various other drugs in order to make his last few hours peaceful and painless. Hound had watched Ratchet administer the drugs, and had known that it had taken everything Ratchet had to do it. The medic didn't like admitting defeat, and it would destroy him to lose a patient.

            "...Hound?"

            The green mech leaned forward, meeting his mate's weak optics and smiling widely. "Hey beautiful." he murmured softly, stroking Mirage's forehelm with his thumb.

            "'M sorry..." Mirage whispered back, shuttering his optics and leaning into the caress. "Should have gone t'Ratchet."

            "It's okay." Hound replied, his voice gentle.

            Silence fell for a long moment, and then Mirage spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper of sound. "'M tired, Hound...."

            "Then sleep, my love." Hound replied, resting his forehelm against Mirage's and closing his own optics. It was almost time... "I'll be right here."

            Mirage ex-vented, and then his frame went still, his weak grip on Hound's hand falling limp. The scout vented out shakily, and then forced his frame up and onto the berth, ignoring the pain growing in his spark.

            "I'll be right here with you...."


	9. Losing Safety

It had never been this bad before.

            Thundercracker held Skywarp tighter where they were settled on the berth, trying to ignore the pain radiating from the bond. Starscream had tried to close them out as best he could, as he usually did, but a lot of pain was getting through. Skywarp whimpered as a particularly bad flash of agony poured through them, pressing his face harder against the blue Seeker's throat.

            Megatron was beyond angry; the mission had been a complete failure, losing them all the Energon they had managed to collect and nearly killing the Constructicons in the process. Starscream had attempted to save things by calling a retreat, and had nearly gotten shot there on the battlefield by Megatron for his efforts.

            All three Seekers had known at that moment that it was going to be bad.

            Another shiver wracked both slim frames, and Thundercracker squeezed his optics shut, trying to keep himself fairly calm for Skywarp's sake. The youngest of them was also the most loyal, but around his trinemates he let it be known that he was more scared of Megatron than anything else. These beatings that Starscream had to endure made the black Seeker shake, and all Thundercracker could do was hold him and wait until they were called to go pick up their trineleader.

            The pain was steadying to a dull throb as Starscream managed to get a hold on the bond. Megatron must have finally left him alone. Shaking himself slightly, Thundercracker prepared to go pick up Starscream. They had only to wait for the call from Megatron.

            A few kliks passed. Skywarp fidgeted beside him, a soft chirr of confusion escaping him. "TC?" he murmured.

            "Any klik now." the blue Seeker responded. "He's probably just ranting at him like he does sometimes."

            The kliks rolled into a breem, and then a bolt of 'wrongness' flooded down the bond. Skywarp trilled anxiously, and this time Thundercracker knew that something was truly wrong. "Come on." he said, rising to his pedes and heading for the door. Skywarp followed, very nearly glued to his eldest trinemate's side as they made their way through the ship.

            The war room door didn't open to Thundercracker's code, and the blue Seeker worriedly pinged his trinemate. Starscream didn't respond, and now he was truly starting to panic. He pressed down the bond, and was alarmed to find that Starscream barely responded, weak and fading fast. Skywarp didn't wait any longer, he grabbed Thundercracker's arm and warped them inside.

            Megatron looked up with angry red optics as they appeared, and Thundercracker barely noticed him stand from where he had been seated in his chair at the end of the table. His attention was on the crumpled form to his left.

            Skywarp let out a cry of despair, lurching forward and falling to his knees beside Starscream's mangled body. The silver Seeker was gasping, his vents all closed by crushed metal, trying weakly to pull enough air in through his mouth to cool his systems, but he was rapidly overheating. Red optics were dazed and barely aware, moving to Skywarp's face as the black Seeker pulled him into his lap.

            "Star!" Skywarp cried softly, cradling the limp form of his trineleader. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay!" He started clawing at the covered vents, drawing Energon, but uncaring. Thundercracker dropped to his knees beside them, instantly assisting his younger mate. Starscream barely reacted to the clawing that had to hurt, his optics flickering as he started to wheeze, his systems failing.

            "TC! TC, he's suffocating!"

            Thundercracker hooked his claws beneath a crushed plate, preparing to tear it off to open up Starscream's vents, and then suddenly the world turned white, his back crashing into the wall. He couldn't hold back the shriek as his wings violently protested the impact, and he could feel Energon seeping from a gash across his face. Skywarp let out a keen, and Thundercracker's world finally solidified for him to see Megatron holding Skywarp back with a powerful grip on his wings even as the black Seeker clawed at him, trying to get away.

            Starscream raised a shaky hand, reaching for his youngest mate, still gasping for air. Megatron watched him coldly, and then turned his gaze on Thundercracker as the blue Seeker started to scramble to Starscream's side again. Megatron's voice made him stop. "Move, Thundercracker, and I will tear his wings from his body."

            Thundercracker froze, his body shaking as he fought with himself. Stay, and Starscream would die. Move, and Skywarp would lose his wings, and then no doubt bleed out in front of him as Megatron held him back, helpless to do anything but watch as both of his mates slipped away. _What do I do...? What do I do?!_

A humming came from Skywarp, and with a snarl Megatron twisted, wrenching a scream from the black Seeker as his wings crumpled. "Don't even think about warping. This useless piece of scrap has been allowed to live long enough, and I am tired of this."

            In one smooth motion he raised his cannon and fired.

            Thundercracker leapt forward, he tried, but the blast hit Starscream in the side, sending him skidding across the floor with a shriek of abused metal. The bond snapped and Skywarp screeched, his optics blacking out as he went limp in Megatron's grasp. Thundercracker remained conscious long enough to see Starscream's smoking frame before he too hit the floor and knew no more.

 

**************

 

            Thundercracker's world faded in to the sound of sobs and his spark burning in his chest.

            Slowly red optics flickered on, and Thundercracker groaned, managing to push himself into a sitting position. He was still in the War Room, but Megatron was gone.

            Skywarp was sitting on the opposite side of the room, Starscream's long-gone-gray body cradled in his lap as he rocked back and forth, wrenching sobs pouring forth from him. The black Seeker's wings were hanging low on his back, the metal twisted and broken, coated in Energon from Megatron's claws. They trembled as Skywarp buried his face against Starscream's cold neck, shivering and sobbing.

            Thundercracker pulled himself up, stumbling across the room to collapse beside his youngest trinemate, his spark writhing within his chest. A mournful keen escaped his throat as he saw Starscream's face, blank and gray, his dark optics still open a fraction.

            Their trineleader was gone.

 

************

           

            Megatron had taken everything from them within a few short joors.

            They hadn't been allowed to remain in the War Room for long; they had had mere moments of mourning before the door had flown open and several Eradicons had come marching in, tearing Starscream's body from their arms and restraining them. Skywarp had let out a roar, teleporting from their grasp and managing to take out several on the drones before he was beaten to the floor after one got a grip on his mangled wings. Thundercracker had released a sonic attack that tore the limbs from two drones, but a shot to his right wing had him on the ground.

            Skywarp had woken him not long after with his whimpering, and he came around to see Skywarp trembling in the corner, his wings clean and the leaks patched, but the metal still warped and no doubt painful. Tears coated the black Seeker's face, and he curled into Thundercracker's embrace when his older mate came close. "H-Hook said that M-Megatron won't let him repair my... w-w-wings..." he pressed his face against Thundercracker's throat. "I'll never fly again..."

            Thundercracker felt his spark clench, the pain from Starscream's death colliding with the realization that their lives were rapidly falling away from them. They had nothing left without Starscream.

            Skywarp faded after that. The black Seeker had always been rather sensitive, playful and childlike despite his enjoyment of fighting. The loss of Starscream hit him hard, and coupled with the loss of flight he lost all will to live. Thundercracker could only watch as he slowly withdrew from everything, no longer wanting to leave the Nemesis, then their quarters, and then beginning to refuse to eat. His wings were gray and cold, dead limbs no matter how much Thundercracker tried to save them with their limited supplies and abilities.

            Thundercracker knew that their days were over when he woke to find Skywarp impossible to stir, his body heavy and limp. A scan revealed that he was down to fumes, and his systems were shutting down one by one. Resigning himself to the fact that it was time to go, Thundercracker laid down once more, tucking himself close to Skywarp's cold body, letting out a sigh as he settled.

            They were found the next morning when Megatron blew down the door to their quarters, thoroughly finished with their 'sniveling' as he had termed it to Soundwave earlier when they had ignored his summons. The warlord blinked in surprise at the sight of the two gray frames curled on the berth together, then turned and left the room.

            "Clean that up." he told Soundwave as he passed the Communications officer, his voice strangely quiet. "I have a new Command Trine to find."

            Soundwave nodded slightly, turning his gaze to the two Seekers on the berth. In that moment, he couldn't help but envy them, because they were with their trineleader again, and were finally at peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a thought recently.... Although I use characters and reference things in G1 and other universes, in my head the bots almost always look like their Prime versions. I guess just something about that 'verse stuck with me, and I love the look of the show. That would be why you'll see me refer to Starscream as a silver mech, rather than tri-colored.


	10. Losing Innocence

In some strange way, Starscream was glad that it happened this way.

            Not that it went well, by any means. But it made him feel somehow better that Skywarp was going first. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened to the youngest of them had he or Thundercracker been killed. Skywarp had always been the softest of them, playful and innocent, which he hid beneath all the bravado and pranks. If he lost one of his trinemates, there was no telling what would become of him.

            The battle had been going well for them, for once, until the screech of a Seeker in pain had rolled across the field. The Air Commander had instantly attempted to take stock of his fliers, but there had been no need as pain flared in the trine bond.

            _\--Thundercracker?--_

            _\--No. It's 'Warp.--_ the blue jet's voice was tight with worry, even as he swung around and took off for the faint ping of their youngest trinemate's location.

            _\--Help me! I can't get him off! He won't let go!--_ Skywarp wailed in their minds, and instantly they both knew that one of the Twins had gotten a hold of the teleporter. Starscream swore, putting on a burst of speed and passing the larger, slower Thundercracker, managing to get to Skywarp in mere kliks.

            The sight of the black jet careening through the air, pieces fluttering away from his form and smoke billowing behind him as the red twin dug around in his cockpit made Starscream let out a screech of anger. He opened fire as Skywarp tilted to put the twin in his trinemate's sights, and a few shots managed to clip the Autobot.

            _\--Hold on, 'Warp, we've got him!--_ Thundercracker put in as he joined in the fray, preparing to fire as he came up behind Starscream.

            The blue Seeker didn't get a chance; Skywarp let out a cry of agony and Sideswipe finally let go, falling through the air for a moment before his jetpack burst into life. Starscream followed him briefly while Thundercracker swung off to follow Skywarp, who was plummeting from the sky at freefall.

            Thundercracker felt his spark skip. _\--'Warp, pull up! Skywarp! Pull up!--_

            Pain was his only answer, and frantically Thundercracker pushed his engines harder, trying to catch him. Suddenly Starscream shot past him, transforming in midair and wrapping his arms around Skywarp's jet form. His thrusters worked wildly to try and slow him, and it did just enough to let Thundercracker catch up and add his own thrusters to the mix.

            All three Seekers landed hard enough to make pain radiate up Thundercracker's legs, but he had no thought for that, only for the black jet in their arms.

            Skywarp's cockpit was in shreds, and it was easy to see sparking, torn wires and cables inside him. As the two Seekers lowered him to the ground he transformed slowly and painfully, a cry of pain bubbling out of his throat before he clutched at his chest. "TC! It hurts!"

            Starscream pulled his scanner from his subspace, frantically attempting to find what they could do, anything to help.

            Thundercracker felt the moment when Starscream realized that there was nothing that could be done. He looked to his trinemate in shock, optics wide. Starscream shook his helm faintly. "The Autobot tore out at lot of circuitry. The link between his processors and systems has been severed. I don't have the tools to fix this."

            "Then call Hook!" Thundercracker demanded, even though he knew that even if the Constructicon medic ran from where he was, Skywarp would be dead before they could fix him. If there were life support machines available, they might have a chance, but here, in the middle of a battle...

            "There's nothing that can be done." Starscream snapped, his voice tight and his optics flashing.

            Thundercracker deflated, his wings sinking as he looked down at their youngest mate. Skywarp's optics were wide and filled with fear and pain, and for a moment it was like all the war had been stripped away, and they had their innocent little Skywarp back. "TC..." he gasped faintly. "It hurts, TC. Make it go away!"

            A sort of resignation descended on Thundercracker's spark. Skywarp was dying, yes, but his last moments would be of fear and agony. Without the vital circuitry that regulated energon and coolant circulation, as well as spark containment, Skywarp's systems would slowly starve, leaving his spark to flicker and then gutter. The process could take anywhere from a few kliks to nearly a breem, and every nanoklik of it would be agony.

            Or...

            Or Thundercracker could spare him that.

            He gently laid Skywarp down, stroking his face. "It'll be okay, 'Warp. I'll make it better, okay?" The black jet whimpered in response, and Thundercracker felt his spark break. He leaned down, pressing a shaky kiss to Skywarp's forehead as Starscream knelt, taking the youngest jet's hand in his own. "Close your optics."

            "TC?" Skywarp whispered softly, shuddering as another wave of pain flare from his torn sensor net.

            "It'll be okay." Thundercracker said firmly. "Just close your optics and trust me."

            Skywarp nodded and slowly did as he was asked, still shivering in pain. Thundercracker pulled in a shaky vent, and then pulled a knife from his subspace. It would be painful, but it was a far greater mercy to die quickly than to suffer for kliks before fading.

            The sound of the knife puncturing Skywarp's spark chamber would haunt Thundercracker's recharge for the rest of his life. The black jet stiffened beneath him, and the slowly relaxed, falling completely limp. Pain seared across his spark, and Thundercracker knew that Skywarp was gone. Starscream shuddered beside him, letting out a faint keen, and both Seekers bowed their heads, mourning their lost mate.

 

**********

 

            Thundercracker woke with a start, sitting bolt upright with a faint cry. Shivering, the blue Seeker buried his face in his hands, attempting to hold back the sobs. Hands drifted up his back plates, and then Starscream spoke softly.

            "It's alright, TC."

            "No, it's not alright!" Thundercracker snapped, turning burning red optics to look at his remaining mate. "It's never going to be alright! Skywarp is DEAD! And..." his voice broke, and he collapsed into himself, keening. "And I k-killed him!"

            Starscream's wings lowered as he watched his once strong and stoic mate break down again, as he had nearly every night in the last week since Skywarp had left them. The Air Commander knew that Thundercracker was breaking, shattering beyond repair every time he dreamed of that moment when he had had to choose between letting their youngest mate suffer for the last moments of his life or killing him to spare him the pain. It was a choice that had destroyed Thundercracker, and Starscream was starting to realize that he might lose the blue Seeker as well.

            Crooning faintly, the silver-colored Seeker wrapped his arms around Thundercracker's shaking body, trying to calm him as best he could. "You set him free, Thundercracker. You spared him the pain of spending his last kliks with his body dying around him. I would want you to do the same for me."

            "I killed him..." Thundercracker whispered brokenly. "Nothing else matters. I killed him. I killed our mate."

 

*************

 

            Starscream looked up from his project in his private lab as his spark began to ache more than usual. A frown crossed his features, and he reached out across the bond to his remaining mate. There was no answer from Thundercracker; the blue Seeker had closed the bond quite firmly. Even so, it was as though Thundercracker was getting further away, the bond was growing fainter.

            Not wasting any more time, the silver Seeker left the lab, following the faint bond to the quarters he shared with Thundercracker, worry flowing through his body. He reached out again as he entered the hall, but there was still no response to his forceful tapping on the block.

            Starscream felt his spark stop as the door slid open and he spotted Thundercracker sprawled limply on the floor, several empty cubes sitting not far from his outstretched fingers. The Seeker let out a cry, going to his knees beside his mate's limp body.

            A quick inspection of the cubes revealed that they had been full of armor polish, and Starscream's hands went to Thundercracker's frame, rolling him to his back. He patted his mate's face, his optics scanning beloved features, terror filling him at the sight of pale lips beginning to go gray.

            "Thundercracker! Thundercracker, wake up!"

            Red optics flickered as they opened, and Thundercracker moaned softly. "S-Star?"

            "What have you done?.!" Starscream very nearly screeched, shaking him frantically. "Purge it, purge it now!"

            A faint, shaky smile crossed Thundercracker's death-colored lips as he shook his head. "I'm s-sorry Star. I t-tried... I just can't... Can't keep g-going...." His optics flickered and Starscream keened as he heard the blue Seeker's fuel pump stutter and fail as the chemicals in the polish began to shut down his systems. "I'm going... to see Skywarp..."

            "No!" the other replied, his voice shaky. "You can't leave me alone! I can't keep doing this on my own!" Starscream didn't even notice the tears that were pouring down his cheeks as he clutched Thundercracker's hand to his chest. "Please... please just stay!"

            "Be waitin'... for you... Star..." Thundercracker whispered, his optics flickering.

            Starscream was still there when night fell, sobbing bitterly as Thundercracker's body grayed and his world disappeared from beneath him.

 

************

            Things changed rapidly after that.

            Starscream became a shell of his former self, no longer snapping at Megatron when he did something the Seeker found to be stupid, simply staring quietly when anyone insulted him, and barely leaving his quarters unless summoned. Everyone watched the Seeker fade, and most quietly wondered when they were going to wake to discover that Starscream had finally taken his own life as his wingmate had.

            But despite the whispers and Starscream's lackluster attitude, the Seeker continued to appear each day, performing his duties with a sort of drone-like quality. Megatron eventually grew tired of this and went back to threatening the Seeker, thinking that perhaps a good fight with him might get a response.

            It did, but not the one that the warlord expected.

            It would have been a fairly normal fight, Megatron presenting a plan to steal energy and Starscream making a quiet comment about the dangers of the area that they were raiding. Megatron had growled at him to be silent, and the Seeker had subsided, which only made the silver Decepticon more angry.

            His engine rumbling with anger, Megatron had risen to his pedes and stalked forward, looming over the smaller mech. "I am tired of this, Starscream! React, do something! This is beyond stupidity!" he very nearly roared, optics flashing.

            Starscream simply looked up at him silently, his own optics dull and his face expressionless. Megatron growled again, and finally his patience snapped as Starscream just continued to look at him and he backhanded the Seeker hard.

            "You will stop this sniveling, or..."

            "Or what?" Starscream cut him off, his voice stronger than anyone in the room had heard it since his trinemate's death. He stayed in his sprawled position, leaning on one hand and turning his head to look up at the warlord, Energon running from the corner of his mouth. "Or you'll do what, _Megatron?_ There is **_nothing_** you can do to me that will make me hurt more than I already do."

            Shocked, Megatron could do nothing but stare, his mouth hanging open as he watched Starscream wipe the Energon from his face and climb to his pedes. The Seeker looked at him for a klik, optics unreadable, and then, without a word, he turned and left the room. Everyone stared after him in shock, and a long, silent moment passed before Megatron finally shook himself and continued as though nothing had happened.

 

*******************

            At the next battle, Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons could only watch with a grim sort of acceptance as Starscream flew high into the sky, hanging beautiful against the clouds for a moment, and then cut his thrusters.

            No one stopped him. No shots were fired as this happened on either side; both Autobots and Decepticons watched entranced as the Seeker fell from the sky, his optics closed and a serene look on his face.

            Optimus, who was standing near Megatron, started to step forward, his armor flaring in alarm. Megatron's voice stopped him. "Let him, Prime."

            "But he's....!"

            "He's going to join his trine. I am of the firm belief that even if we stopped him this time, he would simply do it at a later date. Let him end himself in his own way, in the sky." Megatron replied, his voice strangely calm and weary.

            And so, when Starscream finally hit the ground, not a mech moved. As one, the gathered mechs bowed their helms.

            "I think... I think that this is..." Optimus whispered shakily.

            "Enough." Megatron agreed quietly. 


	11. Losing Strength

Starscream woke that morning cradled between his trinemates. It was not often that he ended up in the center; it was position that Skywarp loved, and so it was usually the black Seeker snuggled in between them. He said that he loved the feeling of being surrounded by the strong frames of his elder mates, and so the two indulged him. But this morning was different.

            Different in every way possible.

            The attack had been relatively planned. The timing could have been better, but Starscream had known for a few days that Megatron had wanted to raid this particular power plant. The three Seekers led the air forces as usual, and Starscream was certain that this would be a battle like just like any of the others; they would fight for a while, get some Energon, and then Megatron would call a retreat.

            What Starscream didn't know was this would be his last day with his trinemates. Had he known, perhaps things would have gone differently.

            It was stupid of them to fight near the plant. Things would go wrong if they could, Starscream had learned of the Decepticons early on, and so it really should have been obvious that someone would shoot the generators and they would explode.

            He should have known.

            But the explosion managed to take them by surprise. All three Seekers were close, gathering up the last of the cubes that they had collected. A stray shot hit the generator, and it went up in flames. Starscream and Skywarp had been facing the opposite direction, packing a few cubes into Thrust's alt mode when suddenly Thundercracker let out a shout. Starscream turned just in time to see the flames explode outward and catch the pile of Energon cubes.

            At that moment Thundercracker hit both of his trinemates hard, just as Thrust panicked and took off, shooting away from the explosion. The world was engulfed in white and fire, and Starscream writhed, screaming as his paint bubbled and dissolved on his frame.

            But then it was over.

            He lay panting, and he could feel Skywarp beside him, whimpering in pain and panic. There was a weight over his body, shielding much of him. The fire had not burned as much as it could have; something had saved him.

            Starscream opened his optics, and then Skywarp let out a high, thin scream.

            Thundercracker was draped over them, and his wings were _on fire._

            Both Starscream and Skywarp were instantly shoving their blue trinemate off their bodies, frantically trying to put out the flames. Dirt was scooped up and over Thundercracker's plating, and distantly Starscream heard Megatron call the retreat.

            But his entire world had narrowed down to the blue mech lying in front of him, the black scorching across his plating, and the hole that had been burned through his back.

            Skywarp was frantic, claws grasping at Thundercracker, hugging him close. "TC!" he gasped. "TC, why did you do that!? What were you thinking!?"

            Thundercracker was gasping, his body shuddering where he lay in Skywarp and Starscream's laps, slowly raising his hand to touch Skywarp's face as he tried to see out of dim, half-open optics. "O-Okay?" he rasped between wheezing vents. "N-Not hu-rr-t..."

            And Starscream knew.

            The black Seeker snorted faintly. "Yea, we're fine. You took most of the blast. We'll get you fixed up, alright?"

            "Not h-hurt..." Thundercracker whispered again. "Good......."

            His voice trailed off, and then his optics went black, helm falling to the side as his arm flopped back to the dirt. Skywarp blinked, and then shook him. "T-TC?" He shook the blue Seeker harder when there was no response. "TC, this isn't funny!"

            Starscream was numb, his spark beginning to ache. He stared down at his trinemate's blank face, trembling.

            "TC! TC, wake up! Stop playing around! Why won't you answer me!?" Skywarp's voice slowly rose to a shriek. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

            "Skywarp..." Starscream murmured, reaching forward to stop the black Seeker from shaking their mate. "Skywarp, he's gone."

            Skywarp looked up at him, optics wild. "Gone?! What do you mean, gone?! He can't leave us!" The youngest Seeker looked down, and then tears slid down his shocked faceplates. "He can't go! We need him! I n-need--" Skywarp's voice broke and he wailed, bending forward and curling around Thundercracker's body, sobbing frantically.

            Starscream could only watch, his face blank despite the tears that were trailing down his cheeks. He watched as Skywarp pressed himself to Thundercracker's graying body, sobbing into his throat as he clutched at him, holding onto him as though it would keep the blue Seeker from leaving.

            "Skywarp..." Starscream murmured softly as the black Seeker's sobs began to fade. "Let him go. We'll see him again, one day, in the Well."

            There was a long moment of silence, and then Skywarp spoke softly. "... In the Well..."

            A pulling sensation started on Starscream's spark. "Skywarp?" he whispered.

            The youngest Seeker's optics were dim.

            "No! **NO!** Don't you do this! Skywarp, listen to me! Stay with me!" Starscream shrieked frantically, reaching down and shaking Skywarp harshly. "Don't follow him! _SKYWARP!_ "

            It was too late; Skywarp was gone.

 

**************

 

            Ratchet moved through the empty battlefield, part of the returning mechs that were double checking the bodies that remained. He always made it a point to go back, usually with Optimus and Jazz, to make sure that everyone who was left on the battlefield was well and truly gone. If there was ever anyone they could save, they did what they could, regardless of faction. They all knew that Megatron didn't bother to retrieve his fallen soldiers.

            When Ratchet first stumbled upon the three bodies curled together not far from the site of the explosion, he thought they were all dead. He let out a faint whistle; it was the Command Trine, wrapped around each other. Their blackened and scorched plating, still losing color, was enough of a sign that they had been present for the explosion, and it had no doubt killed them. The medic knelt, inspecting the bodies.

            He didn't expect one of them to inspect him in return.

            Ratchet let out a shout as he made optic contact with dim red orbs, nearly falling backwards in shock as one of the Seekers lifted his head. It was Starscream peering at him from the cradle of his trinemate's dead bodies, his features slack and uncaring.

            A short staring contest began, and then after a long moment Starscream spoke softly, his voice raspy and barely more than a whisper. "Well?"

            "Well what?" Ratchet asked with a blink.

            "Get on with it, then." Starscream replied. "I'm waiting."

            Ratchet stared at him, and then frowned. "You think I'm going to kill you?"

            Starscream tilted his head. "Isn't that why you're here? Either do it or go away. I'll die with or without your help."

            The medic scanned him. "You're not fatally wounded."

            The Seeker sighed. "Not that it matters. My trine is dead. I have no reason to exist without them, fighting a useless war on a useless planet, for a master who would rather beat me than hear my advice. Now go away." Slowly Starscream laid his head back down against Thundercracker's gray chassis, closing his optics. "Let me die in peace."

            Ratchet stared quietly for a long time. The amount of devotion in Starscream's words, in his optics, was staggering. The medic considered his options; he could do as Starscream asked, just walk away. The Seeker was right; his systems were fading, but at this rate it would take at least an Earth day for him to completely fade.

            ... Or he could do a last kindness for a bondless mech.

            His decision made, Ratchet pulled a strong sedative from his subspace. If he used all of it, with Starscream's already compromised systems it would shut him down in less than a breem. It would be easy; falling into recharge and just never waking up. It would be kinder than this slow, lingering death.

            Starscream opened his optics once more, staring up at Ratchet, no doubt with the intent to tell him to go away again. His gaze fell on the vial in the medic's hands, and slowly he nodded. Ratchet carefully inserted the needle into Starscream's neck, and then sat back, watching as the Seeker nuzzled against his mates.

            Just before Starscream slipped into recharge, Ratchet heard a soft whisper, so quiet that later he would be nearly certain that he had imagined it.

            _"Thank you..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long. I've lost a lot of my movtivation to write lately, and this includes my other fic. I just can't seem to get writing. This is the last of the chapters that I have backed up, so I don't know when the next one will be up.


End file.
